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OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

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DIANA    VICTRIX.      A  Novel.      i6mo,  $1.25; 
paper,  50  cents. 

THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER.   A  Novel. 

I2IHO,  $1.50. 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  &  COMPANY, 
BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK. 


THE  BURDEN 
OF  CHRISTOPHER 

BY  FLORENCE  CONVERSE 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY 

Ctjc  tf  itoerstDc  press,  Cambribgc 
1900 


COPYHIGHT,  1900,  BY  FLORENCE  CONVERSE 
ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 


VIDA  D.  SCUDDER 
HER  BOOK 


1521423 


Z  iraiSfs  olicrpol,  yvwrk  KOVK  &yvo>rd  fiai 
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voffeTre  ndvres,  KO.L  voffovvres,  &s  £y& 
OVK  fffnv  vp.uv  Sffris  ^|  tffov  voffet. 
rb  n\v  y&p  vfjiuv  &\yos  tls  ly"  epxerot 
fi&vov  Kaff  avriv,  KovStv'  &\\ov  fi  8'  i/j^i 
^vx^l  if6\w  T6  Ka/xe  Kal  <r*  ifiov 
&ffr'  oi>x  Sift"?  y'  fSSovrd 
oAA*  IffTf  iroXAi  (lev  pe  ScuepixTavTa  8^, 
iroAA^j  5'  dSoiiy  £\06vTa  (ppovriSos  ir\d,vou. 

CEdipus  Tyrannus,  SOPHOCLES. 

Alas,  my  children !     All  your  sad  complaint 
Was  known  to  me  before  —  too  well  was  known ; 
For  I  have  watched  your  laboring  sick  estate. 
Yet  ailing  thus,  not  one  of  all  your  number 
Suffers  as  I  must  suffer :  unto  you 
His  sorrow  comes  to  each  alone  —  no  more ; 
But  I  for  all  this  troubled  city  groan, 
And  for  myself,  and  still  with  each  of  yon 
Must  groan.     Not  as  to  one  sof  t-lapt  in  slumber 
Ye  questing  come :  already  many  tears 
Of  pity  I  have  shed,  and  many  paths 
Have  traversed  in  the  wanderings  of  my  thought. 
(Translation)  PAUL  ELMER  MOKE. 


CONTENTS 

PAS* 

BOOK  I.  THE  IDYL 

I.  A  MEDLEVAL  SETTING 3 

II.  A  BUSINESS  DETAIL 14 

HE.  THE  SCIENTIFIC  ATTITUDE 23 

IV.  PLAYING  WITH  FIKE 81 

V.  CHRISTOPHER'S  PEOPLE 45 

VI.  THE  FANATIC 63 

VTI.  THE  PASTORAL  MODE 79 

VIII.  WOULD-BE  FRIVOLITY 88 

IX.  A  SHOEMAKERS'  HOLIDAY 104 

X.  PATERNALISM 118 

BOOK  IL  THE  DRAMA. 

I.  CHIEFLY  LEGENDARY 125 

II.  A  BACKWARD  GLANCE 141 

III.  IN  THE  ENEMY'S  CAMP 150 

IV.  A  PLAN  OF  CAMPAIGN 171 

V.  THE  JESUITICAL  CALVINIST       .....  184 
VI.  THE  INTERIM 195 

VII.  Two  WAYS  OF  BETRAYING  A  TRUST      .        .        .  210 
VHI.  A  NON-COMMITTAL  COMMITTEE     ....      224 

IX.  HALF  MEASURES 239 

X.  THE  HELPING  HAND 251 

XI.  THE  WAY  OF  THE  TRANSGRESSOR  ....  263 
XII.  THE  Vicious  CIRCLE 276 

BOOK  HI.  THE  ELEGY 

I.  THE  CORONACH 283 

II.  A  NEW  EXPERIMENT 292 

HI.  THE  CHRIST-BEARER 305 

IV.  TAKING  UP  THE  BURDEN 310 


BOOK  I 

THE  IDYL 

"  The  children  of  the  new  age,  whom  the  new  intuition  gov 
erns." 

Social  Ideals  in  English  Letters,  VIDA  D.  SCUDDEB. 


THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 


CHAPTER  I 

A  MEDIEVAL   SETTING 

A  SHAFT  of  sunlight  came  straight  down  the 
brook,  lit  up  the  ripples,  yellowed  the  stepping- 
stones,  and  sped  shining  into  the  air  just  above 
the  slippery  place  where  the  brook  gave  a  toss  and 
racketed  down  the  rocks. 

"  This  is  my  back  yard,"  said  young  Kenyon, 
pressing  the  branch  of  a  tree  away  from  the  path. 

The  shaft  of  sunlight  fell  upon  Agnes'  yellow 
hair,  as  she  crowded  through  the  underbrush,  and 
carne  out  upon  the  gray  rock  overhanging  the 
waterfall. 

"  There  ought  to  be  a  hermit  sitting  on  the  op 
posite  bank,"  she  said ;  "  it 's  like  a  bit  of  nature 
out  of  an  old  romance.  How  queer  to  find  the 
Middle  Ages  growing  in  your  back  yard  !  " 

"  Why  queer  ?  "  asked  Kenyon,  plainly  resent 
ing  the  adjective. 

Philip  Starr,  following  close  behind  Agnes, 
laughed  appreciatively. 

"  Yes,  exactly,"  she  said,  wheeling  round  upon 


4  THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

him  and  answering  his  laugh ;  "  now  if  it  had 
been  your  back  yard,  Mr.  Starr  "  — 

Kenyon  put  out  a  restraining  arm :  "  The  rock 
looks  innocent,  Miss  Gillespie,  but  it 's  not ;  don't 
stand  on  the  down-hill  part,  please." 

"  Oh,  I  am  sure-footed ;  I  was  in  Switzerland  all 
last  summer ;  and  this  is  quite  a  feeble  little  slope ; 
it  goes  almost  down  to  the  bed  of  the  brook." 

"  Apparently,  yes,"  said  Kenyon,  but  he  moved 
so  that  she  was  obliged  to  step  back. 

"  Then  you  relegate  us  clergy  to  the  Middle 
Ages,  do  you,  Miss  Gillespie  ?  "  continued  Starr. 

"  Dear  me,  no !  "  she  answered,  smiling  over  her 
shoulder;  "I  should  hope  to  be  delivered  from 
doing  anything  so  trite." 

"  Chris  !  Christopher  !  "  called  a  voice  from 
the  woods. 

"  Yes,  aunt  Ada." 

"  Mr.  Gillespie  and  I  are  not  coming  out  on  the 
rock.  I  can't  trust  my  nerves  on  it.  We  shall 
cross  the  stepping-stones  at  once." 

"  Very  well,  we  '11  come  presently." 

"I  want  to  stay  here  a  little  longer,"  said 
Agnes.  Her  eyes  had  been  following  the  water 
as  it  leaped  up  into  the  sun-sparkles  a  moment, 
then  slid  below  where  the  foam  flattened  and  the 
stream  twisted  snake-fashion  through  the  mottled 
stone  gullies. 

"  Suppose  we  sit  down,"  suggested  Philip  Starr ; 
"Chris  never  lets  anybody  stand  around  on  this 
rock  very  long." 


A  MEDIAEVAL  SETTING  5 

"  Is  there  a  tragedy  ?  a  tradition  ? "  asked 
Agnes  lightly,  settling  her  skirts  about  her  feet. 

"  No,"  Kenyon  laughed,  "  but  I  'in  always  afraid 
somebody  's  going  to  make  one." 

"  These  are  our  dear  stepping-stones,  professor," 
said  aunt  Ada's  voice  farther  up  the  brook ;  "  I 
never  see  them  without  tears.  How  many  times, 
in  bygone  days,  Christopher's  father  has  carried 
me  over  on  his  back  !  " 

Aunt  Ada  emerged  from  the  bushes  at  the  side 
of  the  brook,  —  a  tall,  stout  lady  in  a  black  gown 
and  a  flapping  garden  hat.  Professor  Gillespie 
followed,  a  dignified  and  slender  man. 

The  three  young  people  on  the  rock  looked  at 
one  another  and  simultaneously  laughed. 

"Shall  I  go  first,  Miss  Kenyon?"  asked  the 
professor,  glancing  apprehensively  from  aunt  Ada 
to  the  stones. 

"  Who  else  should  lead  the  way  when  Professor 
Gillespie  is  at  hand?"  said  the  lady,  sending  a 
glance  obliquely  heavenward. 

"  Father  will  never  do  it  in  this  world,"  mur 
mured  Agnes ;  "  he  always  has  more  than  he  can 
do  to  look  out  for  himself." 

Philip  Starr  glanced  at  the  girl's  face,  but  it 
was  only  mischievous ;  she  had  not  meant  to 
sharpen  both  edges  of  her  remark. 

"  I  don't  quite  like  to  go  and  help  them,"  Ken 
yon  whispered  apologetically. 

"  Oh,  no  ;  of  course  not,"  assented  Agnes,  and 
she  laughed. 


6  THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

"  Agnes,  dear,"  said  the  professor,  "  your  laugh 
is  very  sudden  and  startling.  Now,  Miss  Kenyon, 
if  you  will  give  me  your  hand  "  — 

Aunt  Ada  gave  her  hand  confidingly,  planted 
one  foot  upon  a  stone,  and  drew  the  other  foot  up. 
But  the  professor  had  also  trusted  his  feet  and  his 
equilibrium  to  a  single  stone.  He  and  Miss  Ken- 
yon  made  each  other  alternate,  involuntary  bows, 
twice,  three  times.  The  professor  realized  that 
he  was  squeezing  a  lady's  hand  ;  he  bowed  again  ; 
so  did  she. 

"  I  think  they  are  going  to  make  a  tradition," 
said  Agnes.  "  How  deep  is  the  water  ?  " 

The  professor  tottered.  Miss  Kenyon  screamed. 
Philip  Starr  had  already  gone  to  the  rescue,  and 
as  Christopher  hastened  after  him,  Agnes  said  :  — 

"  This  is  increasingly  mediaeval  —  three  knights 
and  a  damsel  in  distress.  No,  better  still,  two 
knights  and  a  priest  —  I  forgot  Mr.  Starr." 

"  You  won't  drown,  you  know,  auntie,  even  if 
you  do  fall  in,"  cried  Kenyon  reassuringly,  "  it 's 
not  more  than  six  inches  deep." 

Philip  Starr  had  his  arm  around  the  confused 
lady  and  was  trying  to  drag  her  back  to  the  shore. 

"  Let  go  Miss  Kenyon's  hand,  father,"  cried 
Agnes. 

The  professor,  thus  baldly  admonished,  aban 
doned  his  one  chance  of  support,  stumbled,  floun 
dered,  splashed  his  boots,  and  subsided  palpitating, 
upon  the  opposite  bank,  from  whence  he  dejectedly 
watched  the  transit  of  Miss  Kenyon,  with  Starr 


A  MEDIEVAL  SETTING  1 

leading  her,  and  her  nephew  lending  confidence  to 
her  right  elbow. 

"  Shall  I  come  for  you,  Miss  Gillespie  ?  "  asked 
Kenyon. 

"  Please  don't,"  said  Agnes,  poising  daintily  on 
the  stones.  She  was  small  and  slight,  with  a  little 
colorless  face,  a  tip-tilted  nose,  a  delicately  curved, 
mobile  mouth,  and  big  hazel  eyes.  Her  hair  blazed 
bright  gold  as  she  crossed  the  sun-path  in  the  mid 
dle  of  the  brook. 

"  Is  she  plain,  or  is  n't  she  ?  I  can't  make  out," 
Christopher  had  said  to  Philip  the  night  before, 
on  the  arrival  of  Miss  Gillespie  and  her  father  at 
the  Kenyon  homestead. 

"  I  think  there  's  a  fire  within,"  the  young  cler 
gyman  had  answered,  "  but  she  smiles  like  a 
flint." 

Christopher  had  advised  him  to  use  this  geologic 
simile  in  his  next  sermon. 

"  I  am  a  very  bad  leader,"  sighed  the  professor, 
watching  his  daughter  as  she  danced  toward  him 
over  the  stones. 

"  We  '11  all  say  nay  to  that,  professor,"  objected 
Christopher  heartily;  "any  feather-headed  mor 
tal  can  skip  over  stepping-stones ;  but  when  it 
comes  to  keeping  our  mental  equilibrium  we  're  a 
precious  dizzy  lot.  You  've  pulled  some  of  us  off 
the  rocks  more  than  once." 

Agnes  slipped  her  arm  through  her  father's  and 
smiled  at  Christopher  —  not  like  a  flint. 

"  She  is  fond  of  the  professor,"  thought  Starr, 


8  THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

and  reproached  himself  for  wondering  why.  Mr. 
Gillespie  was  obviously  a  kind  and  learned  man. 

"  Come  farther  down,"  said  Christopher,  and 
led  them  along  the  bank  until  they  were  opposite 
the  gray  rock.  Then  suddenly  Agnes  cried  out 
and  stood  still. 

Beneath  the  brow  of  the  rock  there  was  a  pool, 
a  dull,  unfathomable  eye  that  sulked  glassily.  Dur 
ing  the  wet  seasons  the  water  ran  through  the  pool, 
but  in  a  dry  time  only  a  little  water,  or  none  at 
all,  found  its  way  thither,  and  this  was  a  dry  time. 
The  young  men  tossed  pebbles  into  the  round  eye, 
and  the  pebbles  fell  through  the  water,  spots  of 
whiteness,  and  faded  without  a  sound.  Only  when 
the  brook  flowed  in  and  out,  and  the  sun,  for  an 
afternoon  hour,  shone  down  to  the  heart  of  the 
pool,  could  any  one  know  that  the  stones  at  the 
bottom  were  brown,  and  the  cuplike  walls  were 
perilously  smooth. 

"  Really  a  remarkable  formation,"  observed  the 
professor. 

*'  I  miss  the  allegorical  beast,"  laughed  Agnes ; 
"he- ought  to  be  standing  by  the  pool,  waiting  for 
us  —  as  he  waited  for  the  knights,  and  showed 
them  the  way." 

"  I  did  n't  know  you  were  devoted  to  the  Mid 
dle  Ages,  Miss  Gillespie,"  said  Starr,  "  I  thought 
you  only  went  in  for  modern  things,  —  problems 
and  the  poor.  Have  n't  you  just  come  from 
England?" 

"  And  that 's  why,"  responded  Agnes ;  "  I  had 


A  MEDIAEVAL  SETTING  9 

a  warning  before  I  sailed.  There  was  a  girl  I 
met  over  there,  a  clever,  delightful  girl ;  and  she 
went  round  in  a  red  van,  and  stood  on  a  barrel 
and  lectured,  in  a  low-necked  gown.  I  haven't 
read  anything  but  mediaeval  romances  since.  But 
I  'd  look  better  on  a  barrel  than  she  did." 

"  Then  the  Middle  Ages  is  only  a  precautionary 
measure,  something  like  that  of  the  ostrich?" 
laughed  Christopher. 

"  Ah !  you  would  n't  be  the  true  daughter  of  a 
professor  of  economics,  my  dear,  if  you  did  n't  love 
modern  conditions,"  said  Miss  Kenyon,  with  one 
of  her  oblique  smiles. 

"  Heaven  preserve  me  from  loving  them ! "  ex 
claimed  Agnes  involuntarily. 

Kenyon  leaned  toward  her  with  his  face  all 
alight.  Philip  did  not  move,  but  a  sudden  sense 
of  relief,  of  absurdly  unnecessary  happiness  came 
over  him. 

The  girl  caught  her  breath  and  returned  hastily 
to  her  light  tone. 

"  Besides,  it  would  n't  be  good  for  father,  you 
know,  it  would  hamper  his  development ;  and  I  'm 
particularly  careful  about  father's  development  — 
twice  as  careful  as  he  is  about  mine." 

Mr.  Gillespie  smiled  indulgently,  and  his  daugh 
ter  continued :  — 

"  For  instance,  if  father  comes  down  to  break 
fast  and  begins  to  worry  about  the  relation  be 
tween  employer  and  employed,  I  feel  it  my  duty 
to  divert  him  by  referring  to  the  relation  between 


10  THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

squire  and  knight ;  and  then  if  he  switches  off  on 
the  evils  of  the  feudal  system,  which  you  may  be 
sure  he  always  does,  he  's  that  wily,  I  insist  upon 
talking  about  individuals,  —  about  Launcelot,  Sir 
Kay,  anybody,  so  he 's  not  a  class,  or  a  system,  or 
a  corporation.  It  is  such  a  relief,  after  hearing 
nothing  but  '  the  poor,'  and  '  the  rich,'  and  *  the 
unemployed,'  and  '  the  dispossessed,'  and  '  the  pro 
letariat,'  for  months,  to  read  about  one  man  whose 
name  was  not  Legion,  and  who  went  and  cut  off 
another  man's  head,  individually,  personally,  and 
without  having  to  ask  the  sanction  of  his  union." 

"  But  the  Round  Table  was  a  sort  of  union  after 
all,  was  n't  it,  Miss  Gillespie  ?  "  queried  Kenyon. 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  it  was,"  she  sighed ;  "  there  's 
no  denying  that  it  was  beautifully  organized.  But 
don't  you  get  just  a  little  tired,  yourself,  Mr. 
Kenyon,  of  the  aggregate?  I  haven't  known  a 
person  for  months,  except  father,  and  sometimes 
I  think  he  's  largely  made  up  of  abstractions." 

She  made  a  mischievous  face  at  the  professor, 
and  patted  his  hand. 

"  In  other  words,  you  are  seeking  for  an  indi 
vidual,  a  hero,"  said  Philip  Starr. 

"  Yes,  somebody  who  does  something  on  his  own 
responsibility." 

"  I  suppose  it  does  n't  matter  whether  that 
something  is  good  or  bad  ?  "  suggested  Kenyon. 

"  N — no,  so  it 's  heroic,"  she  answered. 

"  Can  anything  be  heroic  which  is  not  good  ?  " 
mused  the  young  clergyman. 


A  MEDIAEVAL  SETTING  11 

"  Why  not  ?  "  asked  Christopher. 

"  Launcelot  was  heroic  —  almost.  Tristram 
was  heroic,"  Agnes  affirmed. 

"  But  it  was  not  their  sin  which  made  them 
heroes,"  persisted  Starr. 

"  Was  n't  it  ?  "  said  Agnes  absently. 

"  This  is  not  an  individualistic  age,"  the  pro 
fessor  observed.  "  We  seem  to  be  passing  beyond 
individualism  into  another  phase  of  develop 
ment." 

"  But  we  still  remain  individuals,"  said  Kenyon. 
"  The  star-fish  stays  a  star-fish,  and  evolution 
passes  on  over  its  head." 

"Kather  over  its  stomach,"  the  professor  cor 
rected,  with  a  twinkle. 

"  Personality,  like  eternity,  is  a  gift,"  said  Miss 
Kenyon.  After  a  pause  she  added  :  "  You  might 
unstrap  the  tea-basket  now,  Chris ;  this  is  a  very 
good  place." 

"  My  practical  aunt !  "  exclaimed  Kenyon  ;  "  I 
left  it  on  the  other  side  of  the  brook,  when  I 
helped  you  over." 

"  The  basket  is  my  birthday  present  from 
Chris,"  explained  Miss  Kenyon,  as  he  went  back 
along  the  bank.  "  It 's  quite  the  completest  thing 
I  ever  saw,  and  it  came  from  England.  Chris  is 
such  a  dear,  thoughtful  boy.  I  do  not  have  to 
look  far  for  my  hero,  Miss  Gillespie." 

"  You  are  fortunate,"  said  Agnes. 

"  Are  you  quite  sure  you  'd  know  a  hero  if  you 
saw  him  ?  "  Starr  asked  the  girl. 


12  THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

"  No,  I  'm  not ;  appearances  are  so  deceitful, 
especially  modern  ones."  She  was  watching  Chris 
topher,  and  Philip  was  watching  him  too  ;  she  and 
Philip  looked  at  each  other,  and,  without  meaning 
to,  smiled  a  recognition  of  his  thought. 

Kenyon  was  tall  and  muscular ;  there  was  no 
thing  vague  about  any  of  his  outlines.  He  had 
the  philosophic  eye,  deep-set,  meditative.  He  was 
dark,  with  a  pallid  look  about  the  temples.  His 
nose  was  straight  and  made  a  sharp,  clean  angle 
with  his  forehead ;  there  was  something  peculiarly 
decisive  about  his  nose.  Agnes  was  interested  in 
him,  curious  about  him.  She  knew  he  had  been 
her  father's  favorite  pupil  some  six  years  before, 
when  she  was  just  entering  a  girls'  college. 

"  A  brilliant  young  fellow,"  the  professor  had 
called  him,  adding :  "  He  ought  to  be  a  profes 
sional  man,  but  he  insists  on  following  in  his 
father's  footsteps,  and  inheriting  a  factory.  What 
ever  he  may  do,  I  am  convinced  he  has  a  career 
before  him." 

These  words  had  impressed  Agnes,  for  her 
father,  being  a  scholar,  did  not  often  say,  "  I  am 
convinced."  And  now,  after  six  years,  this  young 
man  had  reappeared  upon  the  horizon.  Doubtless 
he  had  existed  during  the  interval,  but  Mr.  Gilles- 
pie  wrote  brief  letters,  and  Agnes  had  been  little 
at  home.  When,  therefore,  she  learned,  some 
three  weeks  after  her  return  from  England,  that 
Mr.  Kenyon  had  invited  her  and  her  father  to 
spend  a  few  days  at  his  home  in  the  village  of 


A  MEDIEVAL  SETTING  13 

Kenyon,  she  was  inclined  to  resent  the  invitation 
as  a  liberty.  But  the  professor  said  :  — 

"I  have  been  promising  to  visit  him  since 
before  his  father  died,  and  that  is  more  than  a 
year  ago.  I  think  we  must  accept.  I  should  like 
to  see  how  he  is  managing  his  mills.  I  think 
he  can  give  me  statistics  for  that  article  I  am 
doing  for  the  '  Economist.'  Yes,  we  would  better 
go.  He  says  he  wishes  to  consult  me." 

"  Has  he  come  into  his  career  ?  "  Agnes  asked, 
and  her  father's  answer  seemed  to  her  irrele 
vant  :  — 

"  He  is  not  yet  thirty,  my  dear." 

She  watched  the  man  now,  as  he  set  up  the 
spirit-lamp  and  filled  the  tea-kettle.  He  was  one 
of  the  people  who  could  be  silent  without  being 
awkward. 

"  That  is  an  heroic  attribute,"  thought  Agnes. 
"  And  his  friend,  the  clergyman,  who  is  quite  a 
different  type  from  father,  believes  in  him  also. 
I  wonder  if  he  believes  in  himself  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Starr,"  she  said  aloud,  "  do  you  think 
heroes  believe  in  themselves  ?  " 

"  If  they  do,"  replied  Kenyon,  assuming  the 
responsibility  of  the  answer,  "  I  imagine  they  get 
pretty  well  disillusioned  before  the  end  of  the 
fight." 

"Perhaps  I  could  believe  in  him  if  I  tried," 
thought  Agnes. 


CHAPTER  H 
A  BUSINESS  DETAIL 

"  THEN  it 's  settled  that  you  '11  look  after  those 
trust  funds,  and  you  '11  come  up  to  town  early 
next  week  to  get  the  power  of  attorney,  or  what 
ever  it  is  that 's  needed  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  suppose  I  shall,"  said  Christopher. 
He  was  driving  the  Rev.  Philip  Starr  to  the  sta 
tion.  "  It  is  distinctly  a  bore  and  not  in  my  line. 
This  money  is  chiefly  in  railroads,  you  say? 
Hang  it,  Phil,  why  didn't  you  go  and  ask  old 
Peter  Watson?  This  is  his  province  —  looking 
after  the  widow  and  the  orphan.  I  don't  know 
how.  And  besides,  he  has  n't  any  scruples  about 
the  kind  of  thing  money 's  invested  in." 

"  Then  get  the  railroads  out  of  the  hands  of  pri 
vate  individuals,"  said  Starr.  "This  Mrs.  Lo- 
ring  is  no  business  woman,  and  why  her  husband 
should  have  seen  fit  to  leave  her  guardian  of  the 
estate,  I  cannot  comprehend ;  but  he  did,  and  she 
has  sense  enough  to  know  that  she  and  the  seven 
little  Loring  minors  are  in  a  bad  way.  She  's  the 
richest  woman  in  my  congregation ;  we  are  not  a 
wealthy  parish,  you  know  —  far  from  it ;  but  she 
believes  in  the  kind  of  thing  St.  Jude's  stands  for, 


A  BUSINESS  DETAIL  J5 

and  she  sticks  to  us.  She  is  a  splendid  church 
worker,  a  most  devout  woman.  I  was  surprised 
to  have  her  come  to  me  for  this  sort  of  thing.  I 
told  her  I  should  prefer  that  she  consult  a  busi 
ness  man  or  a  lawyer;  but  she  is  particularly 
unworldly;  she's  been  dipping  into  modern  in 
dustrial  and  commercial  books,  and  she 's  scared. 
And  "  —  Philip  ended  with  desperation  —  "  she 
up  and  down  insists  she  won't  trust  anybody  but 
me.  You  know  how  much  of  a  business  man  I 
am." 

"  I  do,"  said  Christopher. 

"And  I,"  the  young  clergyman  continued, 
"  don't  know  any  one  I  am  willing  to  trust  except 
you." 

"It  would  seem  that  Mrs.  Loring  is  not  the 
only  unworldly  person  in  St.  Jude's,"  commented 
Christopher. 

"  I  knew  you  'd  help  me  out  of  it,"  said  Philip, 
passing  over  the  comment,  — "  you  don't  know 
what  a  load  you  've  lifted  off  my  mind.  A  church 
debt  and  an  unsympathetic  bishop  are  all  in  the 
day's  work ;  but  when  it  came  to  managing  the 
Loring  trust  money,  I  gave  up." 

"  And  again  I  say  old  Watson,"  persisted  Ken- 
yon  ;  "  he 's  benevolence  personified." 

"  I  don't  want  benevolence,"  said  Philip,  "  and 
I  don't  want  Mr.  Watson.  He  rouses  all  my 
muscular  Christianity.  I  suppose  he  's  a  good 
old  gentleman,  but  his  ideas  on  sanitation  are 
old  fashioned,  —  I  've  got  some  of  his  shoe  people 


16  THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

at  St.  Jude's.  I  went  to  see  him  about  it,  once 
—  the  sanitation ;  but  you  can't  argue  with  an  old 
man  like  that,  you  know." 

Christopher  was  listening  with  a  grin  of  appre 
ciation.  "No,"  he  said,  "you  can't  argue  with 
him ;  you  have  to  hit  him  on  the  head  with  a  brick. 
One  of  his  people  '11  do  it,  too,  some  day.  I  hope, 
for  your  sake,  that  the  delinquent  won't  hail  from 
St.  Jude's.  I  find  he 's  been  stuffing  the  professor 
with  a  lot  of  truck  about  the  practical  deteriora 
tion  of  the  workingman  under  the  influence  of  the 
ten-hour  law.  That 's  one  unpleasant  thing  about 
the  professor,  —  he 's  so  afraid  he  won't  be  fair  to 
both  sides  of  a  question." 

"  His  daughter  is  n't  troubled  by  the  same  sen 
sitiveness,"  observed  Philip. 

"  Not  she! "  Kenyon  exclaimed.  "Do  you  know, 
I  like  that  girl !  Don't  you  think  she 's  rather 
good  looking?  Not  pretty,  I  suppose,  but  won 
derfully  attractive.  After  all,  expression  counts 
more  than  regular  features,  even  with  a  woman." 

"I  think,"  said  Philip  Starr  gravely,  "that 
she  is  an  unusual  woman ;  she  has  that  dynamic 
quality  called  force.  She  is  going  to  do  things." 

Then  he  and  Christopher  got  out  of  the  dog 
cart  and  hitched  the  horse  behind  the  neat  little 
pink  stone  station. 

"  Her  devotion  to  her  father  is  very  pretty," 
said  Christopher,  falling  into  step  beside  his  friend 
as  the  two  paced  the  platform  before  the  tracks. 

"  Very  pretty,"  Philip  assented. 


A  BUSINESS  DETAIL  17 

"  I  tell  you  what  it  is,  Phil,"  said  Kenyon  ag 
gressively,  "you've  never  half  appreciated  the 
professor.  He 's  one  of  the  ablest  and  fairest 
and  most  advanced  men  in  the  country,  in  his 
specialty.  Of  course  he  's  a  little  oblivious,  and 
absorbed  in  his  subject,  but  specialists  have  a 
right  to  be." 

The  train  came  steaming  in  at  this  point,  and 
noisily  concealed  the  fact  that  young  Mr.  Starr 
did  not  attempt  to  defend  his  position.  As  he 
was  going  up  the  steps  of  the  car  he  turned  sud 
denly  and  said :  — 

"  If  you  don't  like  railways  you  might  change 
the  investment.  Why  not  put  it  into  your  own 
factory  ?  I  'm  sure  Mrs.  Loring  would  consent. 
I  'd  be  certain  it  was  being  well  managed  then." 

Christopher  contemplated  his  friend  with  that 
smile  of  indulgent  affection  which  sometimes  illu 
minates  the  countenance  of  the  business  man 
when  he  listens  to  the  suggestions  of  a  profes 
sional  brother. 

"Oh,  no,"  he  said,  "that's  quite  out  of  the 
question.  I  should  not  consider  such  a  proposi 
tion  for  an  instant.  Don't  worry  about  it ;  aunt 
Ada  has  some  money  in  the  same  place,  and  I  can 
look  after  this  along  with  hers ;  it  won't  be  any 
trouble." 

The  train  was  moving ;  the  young  men  ex 
changed  quick  nods,  and  Kenyon  went  back  to 
his  horse.  He  was  touched,  stirred,  by  his  friend's 
unworldly  trustfulness. 


18  THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

"  Catch  old  Watson  or  any  other  man  of  busi 
ness  suggesting  that  I  should  invest  widows'  and 
orphans'  money  in  my  shops,"  he  thought,  "es 
pecially  in  my  shops,"  and  he  chuckled.  "  I  believe 
they  give  me  six  months  to  go  to  smash  in,  don't 
they?  Well,  we  '11  see !  " 

Lack  of  determination  had  never  been  a  Ken- 
yon  characteristic.  Old  Deacon  Kenyon,  Chris 
topher's  great-grandfather,  had  been  known  among 
his  contemporaries  for  "  the  stubbornest  man  in 
thirteen  States."  "  When  he  said  he  'd  do  a  thing, 
fire  nor  water  wa'n't  no  hindrance."  Christo 
pher's  father  was  noted  for  the  fixedness  of  his 
ways,  and  aunt  Ada,  when  roused,  made  up  for 
her  mental  deficiencies  by  a  bland  and  unreasoning 
obstinacy  which  neither  time  nor  persuasion  could 
abate.  By  good  fortune,  the  Kenyons  usually  set 
their  faces  toward  the  light,  as  their  day  and  gen 
eration  saw  it ;  if  the  time  should  come  when  they 
decided  to  face  darkness,  there  would  be  need  of 
a  mightier  lever  than  public  opinion  or  the  deca 
logue  to  turn  them  round.  This  was  an  element 
of  weakness,  no  doubt,  but  none  of  the  Kenyons 
had  passed  for  weak  men. 

Christopher  was  driving  with  his  head  victori 
ously  high  and  his  lips  set  close,  when  Agnes  saw 
him  coming  down  the  street. 

"  What  an  unusually  handsome  man  he  is,"  she 
mused,  watching  him.  She  was  standing  on  the 
doorstep  of  a  little  cottage,  "  demonstrating "  on 
what  Tommie  MacDougal  called  his  "mouth  or- 


A  BUSINESS  DETAIL  19 

gan."  Mrs.  MacDougal  and  Tommie's  older  sis 
ter,  Jeanie,  stood  in  the  doorway,  and  Tommie 
and  two  Callahans  sat  speechless  upon  the  curb. 
Agnes'  eyes  twinkled  at  Christopher  over  the  top 
of  the  mouth  organ,  but  she  did  not  take  the  in 
strument  away  from  her  lips  until  with  a  flourish 
she  had  finished  "Comin'  thro'  the  Rye." 

"  Shall  I  get  you  a  barrel  ?  "  said  Christopher, 
and  she  laughed  delightfully. 

"  Were  you  going  farther  ?  "  he  asked,  "  or  per 
haps  you  will  get  in  and  let  me  drive  you  home?  " 

"  Yes,  I  will,  thank  you.  Here,  Tommie,  it  will 
be  your  turn  to  play  a  tune  next  time." 

She  smiled  at  Mrs.  MacDougal  and  Jeanie,  got 
into  the  dogcart,  and  waved  her  hand  to  the  little 
Callahans. 

"  Are  n't  they  nice !  "  she  said  pleasantly,  and 
continued  without  waiting  for  an  answer,  "I 
thought  I  'd  come  out  and  see  what  your  village 
was  like." 

"  You  did  n't  strike  the  pretty  part,"  Christo 
pher  replied ;  "  you  ought  to  have  gone  over  that 
way,"  indicating  with  his  whip.  "  These  are 
mostly  workingmen's  houses  down  here." 

"I  know;  your  aunt  told  me  to  go  in  that 
direction." 

Her  host  laughed.  "And  do  you  always  do 
the  opposite  thing  from  what  you  are  told  to  do  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"  No,  not  always ;  the  trouble  is  people  usually 
tell  me  to  do  the  thing  I  've  quite  made  up  my 
mind  beforehand  not  to  do." 


20  THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

"  Then  you  wanted  to  come  to  this  part  of  the 
village?"  he  asked. 

"Yes." 

They  were  silent  for  a  few  minutes.  Christo 
pher  had  intended  to  drive  round  into  the  "  pretty 
part,"  but  something  made  him  change  his  mind  ; 
he  continued  to  pass  the  workingmen's  houses. 

"  I  always  go  through  this  part  of  the  village," 
he  said  presently. 

"  Then  there  is  another  road  to  the  factory  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

They  went  a  long  way  in  silence  after  that. 
Twice  Christopher  thought  that  Agnes  was  going 
to  speak,  but  she  did  not. 

She  was  pondering  over  the  fact  that  this  young 
man  was  in  earnest,  that  he  had  something  vital 
to  live  for.  The  young  students  whom  she  had 
met  at  her  father's  house  since  her  return  from 
Europe,  were  vague,  unreal,  self-conscious  men, 
with  a  passion  for  themselves  or  football  or  Jane 
Austen.  Their  criticisms  were  cold  and  dainty, 
and  always  of  books.  They  had  a  delicate  appre 
ciation  of  the  mistakes  of  Adam  Smith,  of  the 
scholarship  of  Professor  Gillespie,  of  their  own 
exquisiteness.  But  Mr.  Kenyon  talked  of  ideas, 
not  of  opinions  ;  of  future  possibilities,  not  of  past 
mistakes  ;  and  he  never  seemed  to  be  thinking  of 
himself. 

"  Do  you  think  you  would  have  liked  to  live  in 
the  Middle  Ages?"  he  asked,  as  he  turned  into 
the  driveway  leading  to  the  Homestead. 


A  BUSINESS  DETAIL  21 

"  I  suppose  not,  if  I  had  lived  in  them,"  she 
answered.  "I  should  have  wanted  to  improve 
them  out  of  themselves,  no  doubt.  But  they're 
nice  to  look  back  on." 

"  I  wonder  if  we  shall  be  as  nice  to  look  back 
on?  "  he  suggested. 

And  she  repeated,  "  I  wonder  ?  " 

"  We  're  desperately  ugly  now ;  don't  you  think 
so?" 

"  Whose  fault?  "  she  asked. 

"  Ours  —  mine,  I  suppose.  Yes,  I  am  sure  it 's 
mine;  that's  why  I  care  so  much.  But  I  don't 
know  what  to  do." 

"  Don't  you  ever  have  dreams  ?  " 

"  Ah,  yes."  He  rested  his  arms  on  his  knees 
and  let  the  reins  hang  loose  while  the  horse  walked. 

"  Well  ?  "  she  questioned. 

Christopher  looked  at  her  with  a  smile.  "  You  'd 
like  to  have  me  go  ahead  and  act  out  my  dreams  ?  " 

"  No ;  I  don't  know  what  they  are." 

"  I  have  a  dream  of  reforming  the  —  the  — 
well,  the  universe,"  he  said,  with  a  laugh, "  begin 
ning  with  the  shoes  on  its  feet." 

"  So  I  supposed,"  Agnes  replied,  "  and  you  're 
going  to  do  it  all  yourself,  —  you,  one  shoemaker." 

He  laughed  again. 

"  That 's  nothing  but  paternalism,"  she  taunted, 
"and  you  said  last  night  you  didn't  believe  in 
paternalism." 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  it 's  not  paternalism  —  it 's 
inherited  tendency.  I  was  born  benevolent ;  my 


22  THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

people  have  always  been  benevolent.  Of  course,  I 
don't  expect  to  do  it  all ;  the  men  would  have  to 
help,  to  work  out  their  own  salvation." 

"  But  yours  would  be  the  master  mind,"  she 
persisted. 

"  The  way  in  which  you  say  '  master  mind '  is 
not  flattering,"  he  said,  looking  amused.  "  Don't 
you  believe  in  master  minds  ?  " 

"  We  meddle  with  the  people,"  she  exclaimed, 
"  we  play  potter,  and  make  a  mess  with  the  clay. 
We  ought  all  to  work  together." 

"  Yes,  we  ought,"  he  assented  thoughtfully. 

There  were  New  England  elms  along  the  avenue, 
and  the  orioles  were  singing  in  them.  Christo 
pher  walked  the  horse,  but  did  not  speak  again, 
chiefly  because  he  wanted  to  tell  this  girl  so  many 
things. 

The  professor  was  reading  a  magazine  on  the 
piazza  of  the  aristocratic  looking  old  white  and 
yellow  house.  Agnes  kissed  him  and  went  up 
stairs  to  her  room. 

"  I  don't  know  why  I  should  have  this  absurd 
desire  to  weep,"  she  said  to  herself ;  "  I  did  n't 
know  I  was  ever  going  to  be  excited  any  more 
over  new  friendships.  I  wish  I  had  some  woman 
belonging  to  me.  I  snubbed  him,  and  I  didn't 
need  to ;  I  wonder  if  he  really  has  a  master  mind  ?  " 

Then  suddenly  she  began  to  cry,  and  as  she 
cried  she  said :  "  I  hate  personalities  that  make 
me  vibrate.  Now  I  shall  look  like  a  fright ;  and 
I  'm  ugly  enough  already." 


CHAPTER  in 

THE  SCIENTIFIC  ATTITUDE 

WHEN  Mr.  Gillespie  was  only  an  instructor  in 
the  college  from  which  he  was  graduated,  he  mar 
ried  a  little  yellow-haired,  white-faced  girl  with  a 
burning  spirit  of  agnosticism  and  no  constitution. 
In  spite  of  these  facts,  she  was  not  a  negative  per 
son.  The  professor  made  up  his  mind  more  often 
during  his  married  life  than  he  did  in  all  the  years 
that  came  afterwards;  but  the  little  wife  went 
early  into  the  unknowable,  and  her  husband  re 
turned  to  his  research  and  his  scholarly  indecisions, 
with  a  sense  of  relief,  perhaps.  During  certain 
years,  a  little  tow-headed  child  came  daily  to  his 
study  for  kisses,  and  during  certain  other  years 
a  slim,  small  creature,  with  very  long  pale  yel 
low  braids  and  unpleasantly  large  eyes,  appeared, 
much  to  the  professor's  perplexity,  at  all  the  lec 
tures  which  he  saw  fit  to  open  to  the  public.  The 
various  widowed  or  maiden  relatives  who  in  the 
course  of  time  kept  house  for  him  told  him  pretty 
tales  of  his  little  daughter's  devotion  to  her  father  ; 
and  he  had  his  hours  of  brooding  and  dream,  when 
the  sight  of  a  yellow  head  flitting  about  in  the 
garden  outside  his  study  window  brought  back  to 


24  THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

his  mind  the  days  of  tremulous  excitement  and 
rapture  when  he  had  taken  his  great  stand  against 
the  Manchester  School.  Always  with  the  memory 
of  those  days  there  came  to  the  professor  a  sense 
as  of  dazzling  blindness,  and  a  white  light  ablaze 
on  his  breast  —  where  his  wife's  head  had  lain 
when  he  kissed  her  hair.  The  child  was  prettier 
than  her  mother  had  been,  but  the  professor  could 
not  be  expected  to  know  this.  One  thing  he  had 
set  himself  to  know,  and  that  was  —  his  subject. 
But  his  daughter  was  willful  and  persistent. 

"  Of  course,  when  I  grow  up,  we  shall  be  com 
panions,  my  father  and  I,"  she  said. 

At  thirteen  she  went  into  voluntary  exile. 

"  I  must  prepare  for  college,  and  I  shall  do  it 
better  at  boarding  school.  Three  of  the  girls  in 
my  class  are  going  to  boarding  school,"  she  told 
her  father,  and  added :  "  I  hope  somebody  will 
marry  cousin  Jane  while  I  am  away,  because  when 
I  come  back  I  shall  be  grown  up,  and  I  shall  keep 
house  for  you  my  own  self." 

The  summer  before  she  entered  college,  her 
father  really  began  to  be  aware  of  her.  He  took 
her  to  Europe  —  or,  rather,  she  went  with  him. 
She  was  seventeen  then,  and  in  an  attitude,  of  im 
pertinence  toward  all  the  world ;  and  while  she 
clung  to  his  arm  and  paced  the  deck  of  the  steamer, 
or  followed  him  about  through  cathedrals  and  art 
galleries,  the  professor  realized  that  this  precocious, 
brilliantly  illogical  young  woman  was  as  quick  as 
most  college  boys  in  comprehending  him,  and 
twice  as  quick  in  tripping  him  up. 


THE  SCIENTIFIC  ATTITUDE  25 

"  Yours  is  the  most  untrained  mind  that  I  have 
ever  met,  my  dear,"  he  remarked  reprovingly  one 
day. 

"  "With  my  father  a  professor,  too,"  she  retorted. 
"  Fie,  for  shame !  It 's  like  the  shoemakers'  chil 
dren." 

And  when  the  professor  began  to  consider  her 
in  the  light  of  a  pupil,  a  disciple,  she  ceased  to 
embarrass  him  ;  she  became  a  joy  to  him,  if  some 
times  a  perplexing  joy.  Agnes  had  her  way  ;  she 
and  her  father  were  companions  when  she  grew  up. 
The  professor  fell  into  the  habit  of  laying  aside 
certain  books  to  be  read  when  Agnes  came  home 
for  the  holidays.  They  were  exciting  times,  those 
holidays.  Every  three  months  Agnes  brought 
home  a  new  heresy,  and  during  the  weeks  of  her 
vacation  the  professor's  study  was  reverberate 
with  controversy. 

Those  were  the  days  when  women's  colleges 
were  just  beginning  to  shake  themselves  free  from 
the  preparatory  schools ;  when  standards  were  low, 
methods  were  loose,  and  students  were  few.  Agnes 
Gillespie  held  her  head  very  high,  and  endured 
her  Alma  Mater  with  a  contempt  which,  while  it 
may  have  been  intellectually  justifiable,  was  cer 
tainly  not  polite.  The  faculty  called  her  brilliant, 
but  morally  undisciplined.  The  students,  except 
her  own  chosen  few,  regarded  her  with  bewilder 
ment  and  distaste,  and  she  regarded  them  not  at 
all.  It  was  unquestionably  a  misfortune  that  they 
eould  not  read  French  and  had  never  enjoyed  the 


26  THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

advantage  of  attending  Professor  Gillespie's  lec 
tures,  but  it  could  hardly  be  called  their  fault. 
One  of  Agnes'  more  outspoken  friends  suggested 
once  that  she  might  take  this  into  consideration, 
but  Agnes  said  :  — 

"  Why  should  I  ?  They  would  bore  me  just  the 
same." 

Her  work  was  the  one  thing  she  treated  with 
respect.  She  had  the  professor's  own  capacity 
for  collecting  and  absorbing  knowledge,  and  her 
intellectual  feats  lingered  for  years  as  a  tradition 
in  the  college.  She  was  aware  of  her  own  abil 
ity,  but  she  was  not  vainglorious;  she  accepted 
herself  as  she  was,  as  a  matter  of  course  ;  it  was 
the  dullness  of  all  the  other  people  which  seemed 
to  her  exceptional.  But  in  spite  of  her  scorn  and 
her  cleverness,  she  did  not  take  her  college  life 
easily. 

"  My  dear,  you  grow  more  and  more  like  your 
mother,"  the  professor  said  when  Agnes,  with  dra 
matic  apathy  and  a  saving  consciousness  of  the 
tragedy  of  the  situation,  informed  him  that  she 
was  a  being  without  hope,  without  faith,  without 
the  power  to  have  faith. 

"  I  cannot  see  a  '  why  '  in  anything.  It  has  all 
gone,"  she  said. 

This  was  on  Christmas  Eve  in  her  sophomore 
year.  By  Easter  she  had  arrived  at  the  conclusion 
that,  for  one  who  believed  in  nothing,  all  action 
was  inconsistent.  But  when  she  impassively  dis 
cussed  the  advisability  of  ceasing  from  the  exer- 


THE  SCIENTIFIC  ATTITUDE  27 

cise  of  all  her  functions  physical  and  mental,  and 
reducing  herself  to  a  state  of  consistent  nothing 
ness,  the  professor  became  alarmed. 

"  My  little  child,"  he  said,  lifting  her  to  his  knee ; 
"  my  poor,  unhappy  little  child !  "  She  was  not 
unhappy,  but  neither  of  them  knew  that.  And 
presently  he  whispered,  "  Who  would  keep  house 
for  me  ?  " 

Agnes  rallied. 

"  School  yourself  in  the  scientific  attitude,  my 
daughter ;  it  is  your  only  salvation,"  continued  the 
professor,  after  an  interval  of  silence,  during  which 
Agnes'  arms  had  clasped  themselves  very  tightly 
around  his  neck.  "  If  we  cannot  be  hopeful,  we 
can  be  scientific  ;  though  we  lose  all  faith,  we  may 
still  preserve  that  receptivity  of  mind  which  is  the 
open  door  to  science.  Be  receptive,  my  dear,  and 
be  patient." 

After  a  summer  in  England,  during  which  she 
frequented  cathedrals,  lived  in  lodgings  with  her 
father  at  Oxford,  and  heard  one  or  two  memorable 
lectures  by  Ruskin,  Agnes  gave  herself  up,  for  a 
time,  to  what  she  was  pleased  to  call  "  the  emo 
tionalism  of  aesthetics,"  and  spent  the  Sundays  of 
the  first  term  of  her  junior  year  in  attending  ritu 
alistic  churches  and  High  Church  mission  chapels. 

"  And  in  this  way  I  have  been  able  to  make  the 
connection  between  political  economy  and  life," 
she  announced  to  her  father  between  the  courses 
on  Thanksgiving  Day. 

The  professor  looked  bewildered. 


28  THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

"  You  will  have  a  large  helping  of  the  pudding, 
won't  you,  father  ?  "  she  continued,  adding  a  few 
detached  plums  to  the  brown  slice  which  she  had 
intended  for  her  parent.  "  Is  n't  it  nice  to  have 
our  Thanksgiving  dinner  without  a  whole  raft  of 
relatives  for  once  in  a  way?  Yes,  I  have  found 
the  People,  capitalized  in  more  ways  than  one. 
They  are  in  the  mission  churches ;  and  the  more 
color  there  is,  and  the  more  music  —  why,  the  more 
People !  That  is  the  connection  between  political 
economy  and  life.  That  is  the  reason  for  a  living 
wage.  I  have  something  really  vital  to  go  on  now ; 
it  was  all  like  a  problem  in  geometry  before,  very 
pleasing  and  intricate,  but  not  exactly  useful,  as 
far  as  I  could  see.  This  is  the  worst  heresy  yet, 
isn't  it,  father?  But,  you  see,  it  isn't  a  heresy 
any  longer,  and  that 's  why  I  'm  telling  you.  Here 
after,  I  'm  not  going  to  study  treatises  ;  I  'm  going 
to  study  people.  My  mind  has  received  about  all 
the  theories  on  economics  that  it  will  hold  just 
now ;  I  think  that  is  what  has  been  the  matter  with 
me ;  so  I  'm  going  to  be  receptive  in  an  entirely 
different  direction.  I  shall  really  be  more  helpful 
to  you  in  the  long  run,  because  you  can  get  the 
theories  and  the  books  and  the  hypotheses,  and  I  '11 
get  the  people,  and  we  '11  put  them  together  and 
we  '11  make  life !  Oh,  father  !  —  Won't  you 
have  some  more  pudding  ?  " 

This  outburst  of  incoherent  enthusiasm  meant 
more  than  the  professor  was  in  a  position  to  com 
prehend.  Agnes'  fellow  students  were  absorbed  in 


THE  SCIENTIFIC  ATTITUDE  29 

digging  for  Greek  roots,  in  speculating  on  the  pos 
sibility  of  the  existence  of  a  fourth  dimension  — 
in  emphasizing  that  belief  in  scholarship  as  an  end 
in  itself,  and  in  the  right  of  woman  to  be  a  scholar, 
which  was,  and  rightly  was,  the  self-appointed  task 
of  the  pioneers  among  college-bred  women.  If  the 
professor  had  been  an  authority  on  Greek  texts  or 
a  lecturer  on  the  Renaissance,  his  daughter  would 
doubtless  have  studied  philology  or  art  as  assidu 
ously  as  she  studied  Malthus  and  Adam  Smith. 
But  the  professor  was  a  devotee  of  the  new  science 
—  the  great  unifier  which,  as  he  said  in  his  lec 
tures,  was  to  inclose  all  other  arts  and  sciences 
within  its  circumference,  because  it  was  the  science 
and  art  of  living.  This  idea  was  not  original  with 
the  professor,  but  it  served  its  purpose  in  impress 
ing  his  students.  In  Agnes'  girlhood,  however, 
the  new  science  had  not  touched  the  imagination 
of  the  new  woman.  There  was,  as  yet,  no  College 
Settlement  idea  with  which  to  vaccinate  the  under 
graduate  mind.  Filial  affection  and  a  defiant  will 
alone  caused  Agnes  to  puzzle  out  the  meaning  of 
world  markets,  and  trace  the  curve  of  supply  and 
demand.  Life  was  as  much  a  thing  apart,  in  her 
mind,  as  it  was  in  the  minds  of  —  all  the  other 
girls  who  were  delving  in  the  abstract.  Even  after 
she  found  the  People  and  made  the  "  connection," 
her  attitude  toward  the  universe  continued  for  some 
time  to  be  merely  receptive. 

"  You  can  be  of  most  use  in  the  world  by  devot 
ing  yourself  to  your  specialty,  by  clearing  up  your 


30  THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

own  mind  —  self-cultivation  is  wisdom  !  "  This 
was  the  cry  of  her  fellow  students,  and  Agnes  ac 
cepted  it  as  a  truth. 

"  We  '11  put  them  together  and  make  life,"  she 
said  to  her  father,  and  she  was  glad ;  but  she  did 
not  know  what  she  meant. 

In  her  senior  year  she  became  philanthropic,  but 
the  title  of  her  graduating  thesis  was,  "Benevo 
lence  :  Our  Modern  Crime,"  and  it  almost  cost  her 
her  degree. 

Much  to  Agnes'  astonishment,  this  little  episode 
alarmed  the  professor.  He  cut  his  classes  and 
traveled  all  night  in  order  to  smooth  the  matter 
over. 

"  I  should  not  mind  losing  my  degree  if  I  lost  it 
for  the  sake  of  the  truth !  "  she  cried,  with  Shel- 
leyan  ardor. 

"Suppose  you  made  a  mistake,  and  it  was  a 
lie  ?  "  observed  her  father. 

"  But  it  was  n't  a  lie,"  she  answered. 

"  My  child,"  the  professor  began  gravely,  "  did 
you  ever  notice  how  very  seldom  I  assert  that  any 
thing  is  a  fact  ?  " 

"  Yes,  father." 

"  And  do  you  know  why  ?  " 

"  Why?  " 

"  Because  I  do  not  dare  to  deal  lightly  with  any 
thing  so  grave  as  the  truth." 

Agnes  sighed. 

It  was  a  little  more  than  a  year  after  this  that 
she  came  to  know  Christopher  Kenyon. 


CHAPTER  IV 

PLATING  WITH    FIRE 

"  YOUR  friend  Mr.  Starr  is  a  very  interesting 
young  man,"  said  Agnes. 

She  and  Christopher  were  sitting  on  the  broad 
piazza  of  the  Homestead,  the  day  after  their  drive 
through  the  village. 

"  He  's  a  splendid  fellow  !  "  Christopher  re 
sponded  with  enthusiasm,  "  and  he  '11  be  a  shining 
light  some  day." 

"  I  used  to  drop  into  St.  Jude's  occasionally,  two 
or  three  years  ago,"  Agnes  continued  idly ;  "  there 
was  an  ecstatic,  mumbly  old  man  there  then." 

"  Yes,  he  died,  or  was  retired,  or  something,  and 
they  put  Phil  in  his  place.  It 's  quite  a  parish  now. 
I  don't  mean  fashionable,  but  vigorous  ;  lots  of 
mothers'  meetings  and  guilds  and  brotherhoods. 
Phil 's  beginning  to  be  talked  about." 

"  I  hope  it  won't  spoil  him,"  said  Agnes. 

"I  hope  it  won't  ruin  his  health,"  amended 
Christopher.  "  He  works  longer  hours  than  any 
mill  operative  in  the  State,  and  that 's  saying  a  good 
deal." 

"  Mr.  Kenyon  !  this  is  the  third  time  in  ten 
minutes  that  I  have  changed  the  subject  and  you 
have  brought  it  back  to  the  laboring  class." 


32  THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

"  I  'm  sorry,"  he  pleaded ;  "  I  did  n't  realize  it. 
I  'm  afraid  I  've  gotten  so  I  think  only  in  industrial 
terms.  And  besides,  you  don't  really  mind.  I 
know  you  are  thinking  about  them  as  much  as  I 
am." 

"  Everybody  's  doing  things,"  Agnes  said  discon 
tentedly.  She  frowned  and  linked  her  fingers 
together,  looking  beyond  Kenyon  as  she  talked. 
"  Over  in  England  they  're  raging  round  tearing 
down  tenement  houses  and  forming  leagues,  and 
over  here  you  're  cutting  down  hours  and  putting 
up  wages  "  — 

"  Doing  things !  "  exclaimed  Kenyon  bitterly, 
and  he  got  up  and  walked  away  from  her  to  the 
piazza  railing. 

"  It  fidgets  me,"  she  continued,  ignoring  his  re 
mark. 

He  turned  and  flung  out  his  hands.  "  That 's 
because  you  want  to  help." 

But  she  put  her  fingers  in  her  ears  and  cried, 
"No,  I  don't!" 

Christopher  turned  away  again  ;  "  we  might  talk 
about  religion,"  he  suggested,  staring  down  the 
avenue. 

"  Why  do  you  do  things,  Mr.  Kenyon  ?  "  she 
asked  perversely. 

"  Because  I  believe  in  doing  them ! "  he  cried 
out. 

Agnes  got  up  and  followed  him  to  the  piazza 
railing.  "  And  suppose  you  were  to  make  a  mis 
take?" 


PLAYING  WITH  FIRE  33 

"  It  would  n't  be  the  first  time.  There 's  no 
sin  in  making  a  mistake." 

"  If  your  friend  the  clergyman  were  here,  per 
haps  he  would  question  that,"  said  Agnes.  "  How 
about  the  people  who  might  suffer  because  of  the 
mistake  ?  " 

"  I  believe  it  is  better  to  make  people  suffer  by 
doing  things  than  by  leaving  them  undone." 

"  My  father  never  taught  you  that,"  she  said. 

"  I  don't  remember,"  he  answered,  and  she  was 
relieved  that  he  had  not  noticed  her  implied  criti 
cism  of  the  professor  ;  "  but  your  father  taught  me 
the  best  of  everything  I  do  know." 

"  Yes,  of  course  he  did,"  she  assented,  smiling  ; 
"  he  always  doe's  teach  everybody  the  best,  the 
highest  things."  She  said  it  a  little  over-eagerly, 
perhaps,  from  very  loyalty. 

"  For  years  your  father  has  been  my  greatest 
inspiration." 

Agnes  glowed. 

"  Everything  that  I  have  done  since  I  left  col 
lege  is  due  to  him." 

"  Mistakes  and  all  ?  "  she  questioned.  She  could 
not  help  it,  and  they  both  laughed.  But  she  added 
seriously  :  "  He  is  more  inspiring,  even  to  me,  than 
any  one  I  have  ever  known  ;  he  makes  me  want  to 
rise  up  and  go  and  set  everything  straight,  or  try 
to.  Only  —  only  "  —  her  voice  grew  wistful,  — 
"  I  'm  his  daughter,  and  that 's  not  the  scientific 
attitude." 

"  I  don't  know  why  it  is  n't,"  interrupted  Chris- 


34  THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

topher,  and  his  eagerness  startled  her  into  the 
realization  that  she  was  becoming  confidential. 
"  I  don't  know  why  it  is  n't ;  science  is  experi 
ence,  and  experience  is  the  result  of  investigation, 
and  investigation  implies  action  "  —  He  paused, 
expectant  of  her  assent. 

"  And  now  shall  we  talk  about  religion  ?  "  she 
suggested  demurely. 

"  No,  we  shall  not !  "  he  replied,  and  became 
silent,  pacing  the  piazza,  while  she  watched  him, 
half  mischievous,  half  embarrassed.  They  had 
been  fencing  with  each  other  for  three  days.  She 
felt  in  her  heart  an  overwhelming  tenderness  to 
wards  him  which  irritated  her  virginal  pride  and 
made  her  caustic  in  self-protection.  And  he  fol 
lowed  her  about,  insisting  upon  her  attention, 
wooing  her  with  economic  theories,  claiming  her 
sympathy,  mastering  her,  but  as  yet  unconscious 
of  the  meaning  of  what  he  did. 

Aunt  Ada  found  them  still  silent  five  minutes 
later,  when  she  came  out  to  pick  the  nasturtiums. 

"  Let  me  help  you,  Miss  Kenyon,"  Agnes  cried, 
welcoming  the  diversion. 

"  I  '11  go  and  see  about  the  carriage  to  take  you 
and  your  father  to  the  shops,"  said  Christopher ; 
"  Mr.  Gillespie  wanted  to  visit  them  to-day." 

"  Thank  you,  but  I  don't  think  I  '11  go,"  returned 
Agnes ;  "  it 's  so  nice  here  with  the  nasturtiums." 

She  knew  she  hurt  his  feelings,  but  she  wanted 
to. 

"Christopher  is   always   so   thoughtful,"  mur- 


PLAYING  WITH  FIRE  35 

mured  aunt  Ada,  as  her  nephew  went  into  the 
house.  "You  would  better  go,  Miss  Gillespie ; 
you  '11  have  a  much  nicer  time  than  you  will  here 
at  home  with  a  prosy  old  lady." 

"No,  I  sha'n't,"  said  Agnes  cheerfully.  "Do 
you  want  them  all  picked  ?  "  She  had  gone  down 
below  the  piazza,  where  the  nasturtiums  grew  in  a 
long,  climbing  row. 

"  Yes ;  they  like  it,  you  know.  Are  you  fond 
of  flowers  ?  Chris  is  devoted  to  them.  When  he 
was  a  little  boy  he  had  a  garden  of  his  own,  and 
he  got  a  prize  at  a  chrysanthemum  show." 

Agnes  was  unobtrusively,  but  with  intention, 
moving  down  the  row  of  nasturtiums  away  from 
the  sound  of  aunt  Ada's  voice. 

"  I  have  been  talking  to  that  man  as  if  I  had 
known  him  forty  years,"  she  thought  discontent 
edly.  "  It  is  absurd  of  me  ;  what  do  I  care  ?  "  and 
her  little  white  face  grew  slowly  pink  and  warm. 

"Chris  is  especially  fond  of  the  flame-colored 
ones,"  said  aunt  Ada  ;  "  we  always  fill  a  bowl  for 
his  study  table." 

Agnes  deliberately  avoided  the  flame-colored 
ones  for  as  much  as  five  minutes. 

"  How  fast  you  do  it ! "  aunt  Ada  called. 
"  That 's  just  like  Chris,  he  "  —  Agnes  turned 
the  corner  of  the  piazza  and  came  suddenly  upon 
another  girl.  The  two  started,  then  recognized 
each  other  and  smiled.  They  had  met  before  in 
Mrs.  MacDougal's  doorway. 

"  Miss  Kenyon  ?     Is  she  here  ?     I  was  told  "  — 


86  THE  BUKDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

"  Just  around  the  corner,"  said  Agnes,  and  in 
another  moment  she  heard  aunt  Ada  saying :  — 

"  Ah,  yes,  Jeanie  MacDougal ;  you  have  come 
for  the  wine  for  your  father,  have  n't  you  ?  " 

"  Philanthropy,"  sighed  Agnes.  "  I  suppose  he 
pauperizes  them.  That 's  exactly  what  father 
would  do,  too  ;  he 's  so  kind  hearted,  in  spite  of  all 
his  theories." 

"  And  Mr.  Kenyon  —  is  he  here  also  ?  "  asked 
the  girl.  "  I  would  be  grateful  to  be  allowed  to 
see  him  this  morning  about  work.  I  stopped  at 
the  shops'  office  on  my  way,  but  he  was  not 
there." 

Agnes  listened  with  delight  to  the  low,  clear 
voice,  —  a  Scotch  voice,  though  not  so  much  in 
accent  as  in  quality,  in  that  musical  crooning  of 
the  words  which  is  so  entirely  un-American. 

"  Now  that 's  a  pity,"  said  aunt  Ada.  "  He 's 
just  gone  down  to  the  shops  with  a  guest.  But 
stay  here  in  the  garden,  my  dear ;  I  have  some 
calves'-foot  jelly  to  send  to  your  father,  but  I  'm 
afraid  it 's  not  ready.  Perhaps  you  will  help  Miss 
Gillespie  with  the  nasturtiums." 

She  trotted  into  the  house  and  Agnes  came 
round  the  corner  of  the  piazza. 

"  Your  father  is  ill  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Miss  Gillespie,  quite  ill  for  three  weeks 
now,  and  it  may  be  he  will  not  work  all  this  next 
winter." 

"  I  am  very  sorry." 

"  I  heard  it  only  this  morning  from  the  doctor," 


PLAYING  WITH  FIRE  37 

continued  the  girl ;  "  it  is  a  low  fever  lie  has  been 
having,  and  his  heart  is  weak." 

She  did  not  sniff  nor  wipe  her  eyes  as  she  spoke ; 
she  only  looked  very  sad ;  and  this  self-control, 
together  with  the  careful  English,  appealed  to 
Agnes  and  disarmed  her  fastidiousness. 

"  Do  you  work  in  the  shops  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  would  be  coming  to  see  Mr.  Kenyon  about 
that,"  Jeanie  answered.  She  was  moving  along  at 
Agnes'  side,  picking  the  nasturtiums  as  she  talked, 
and  Agnes  noticed  how  entirely  at  her  ease  she 
was,  and  unhampered  by  self-consciousness.  "I 
wish  to  be  allowed  to  take  my  father's  place,  be 
cause  we  need  the  money." 

"But  even  if  you  did  get  your  father's  work 
you  couldn't  expect  to  have  his  wages,"  said 
Agnes,  talking  out  of  book. 

"  That  is  what  I  must  inquire  about,"  returned 
the  girl. 

"  Does  Mr.  Kenyon  pay  his  men  and  women 
equal  wages  ?  "  Agnes  asked  curiously. 

"  The  women  in  the  shops  do  not  do  the  same 
kind  of  work  as  the  men,"  answered  Jeanie;  "but 
if  I  can  do  my  father's  work,  why  shall  I  not  have 
his  wages  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Kenyon  will  perhaps  tell  you  why,"  said 
Agnes  with  a  peculiar  smile. 

"  Mr.  Kenyon  is  a  very  just  man,"  said  the  girl. 

"  Has  he  ever  paid  a  woman  the  wages  of  a  man 
if  she  took  a  man's  place  ?  "  Agnes  persisted. 

In  her  heart  she  was  thinking  with  a  kind  of 


38  THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

wonder,  "  How  far  away  I  am  from  touching  life ! 
but  these  people  are  his,  according  to  the  present 
system ;  they  belong  to  him ;  he  can  make  them  or 
mar  them  as  he  chooses." 

"  I  do  not  know  that,"  Jeanie  answered ;  "  I 
have  not  been  in  the  shops  more  than  a  year.  His 
father  was  kind,  but  not  the  same." 

"Now  while  I  go  in  and  get  some  bowls  and 
vases  you  can  finish  picking  the  few  that  are  left," 
said  Agnes,  "  and  then  we  '11  arrange  them." 

But  when  she  came  out  of  the  house  she  found 
Jeanie  standing  ready  for  departure  with  a  covered 
basket  on  her  arm,  while  Miss  Kenyon  delivered 
a  few  final  advices  on  the  necessity  of  keeping  the 
jelly  in  a  cool  place,  and  standing  the  bottle  of 
wine  on  its  head  after  it  had  been  once  uncorked. 

"  I  'm  sorry  not  to  wait,"  said  Jeanie.  "  I  '11  be 
seeing  him  at  the  office  to-morrow." 

"  Could  n't  you  see  the  foreman,  or  whoever  has 
the  work  in  charge  ?  "  suggested  Agnes. 

"  We  like  to  come  to  the  young  master,  straight, 
if  there  's  any  new  thing  wanting  to  be  done,"  said 
Jeanie ;  and  then,  as  she  saw  that  Agnes  was  hold 
ing  out  her  hand,  she  smiled,  shifted  the  basket  to 
her  left  arm,  and  held  out  her  own  right  hand. 

"  I  '11  tell  him  for  you,  to-day,  when  he  comes 
back,"  Agnes  said.  "  Good-by ;  I  hope  your  father 
will  be  better  soon." 

Christopher  and  the  professor  found  something 
very  like  a  bonfire  on  the  piazza  when  they  came 
home,  —  a  small,  white-clad  maiden  sitting  Turk- 


PLAYING  WITH  FIRE  39 

ish  fashion  on  the  piazza  floor  with  a  semicircle  of 
nasturtiums  before  her,  and  flamelet  blossoms  in 
her  hair,  in  her  lap,  on  her  breast.  She  held  a 
green  bowl  full  of  the  flowers  poised  in  air,  —  as 
a  good  housewife  holds  a  pie  when  she  clips  the 
edges,  —  and  she  surveyed  her  work  critically,  lift 
ing  her  other  hand  to  twitch  a  petal  lightly,  on 
this  side  or  on  that.  Christopher  and  the  professor 
came  round  the  house  from  the  stables,  and  Agnes 
did  not  hear  them  until  they  stepped  upon  the 
piazza.  When  she  looked  up  and  saw  them  watch 
ing  her  a  faint,  slow  flush  crept  over  all  her  face. 
There  were  only  flame-colored  nasturtiums  in  that 
bowl. 

The  professor  looked  upon  this  vision  as  if  he 
loved  it. 

"  This  is  my  little  salamander,  Kenyon,"  he 
said  ;  "  she  lives  forever  at  the  heart  of  a  flame." 

The  little  salamander  blushed  a  brighter  red, 
but  laughed  straight  up  into  their  faces  in  defiance 
of  her  own  embarrassment. 

Christopher  stood  on  his  two  feet,  stock-still,  but 
his  soul  went  dizzy  and  whirled,  and  for  a  few  sec 
onds  he  had  no  consciousness  but  of  ecstasy,  and  the 
throbbing  of  his  pulses  against  his  wrists  and  his 
temples.  When  he  came  back  to  earth  he  found 
himself  thinking,  "And  I  have  known  her  only 
three  days.  Does  it  always  grip  a  man  like  this?" 

"  If  you  're  going  in  you  might  bring  me  another 
bowl  or  two,"  said  Agnes.  "  There 's  no  end  to 
these  flowers." 


40  THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

He  turned  mechanically  and  went  into  the 
house,  and  the  professor  followed  him ;  but  Chris 
topher  came  back  directly  with  the  bowls,  and 
sat  on  the  piazza  railing  watching  the  salamander 
arrange  the  flowers.  He  was  thinking  all  manner 
of  inexpressible  thoughts  about  fire-priestesses,  and 
oracles,  and  prophetesses  on  flaming  tripods,  and 
nymphs  of  Pan. 

"There  was  a  girl  here  named  Jeanie  Mac- 
Dougal,"  began  Agnes,  "  and  she  wanted  to  see 
you  about  work.  I  promised  to  speak  to  you 
about  it." 

"  That  green  bowl  always  goes  in  my  study,  — 
the  one  you  've  just  finished,"  said  Christopher ; 
"  I  '11  take  it,"  and  he  stooped,  bracing  his  feet,  and 
set  the  bowl  on  the  railing  beside  him. 

"  She  says  her  father  will  not  be  able  to  work 
for  many  months,"  Agnes  continued,  "  and  she 
wants  you  to  let  her  take  his  place  and  do  his 
work." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon ;  who  is  this  ?  " 

"  Her  name  is  Jeanie  MacDougal,  and  she  is 
such  a  pretty  girl,  with  a  charming  voice." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  know.  Well,  I  don't  know  why 
she  should  n't  take  his  place  and  hold  it  for  him  if 
she  can  do  his  work."  He  spoke  musingly,  as  if 
he  were  weighing  the  matter  in  his  mind. 

"  She  wants  his  wages,  too,"  said  Agnes. 

"  Yes,  of  course,"  he  assented. 

"  Would  you  really  give  a  young  girl  the  same 
wages  that  you  would  a  grown  man  ?  " 


PLAYING  WITH  FIRE  41 

"  I  don't  see  how  I  could  help  it  if  she  did  the 
same  work,  and  did  it  as  well." 

"  But "  —  said  Agnes,  and  stopped. 

"  The  occasion  has  never  arisen  before,  but  I 
expected  that  it  would  some  day,"  he  observed 
smiling.  "  I  hope  to  do  more  radical  things  than 
this  in  my  business.  I  've  been  talking  them  over 
with  your  father."  He  spoke  confidently. 

"  I  hope  to  do  more  radical  things  with  my 
business  ?  "  queried  Agnes,  looking  at  him  from 
under  drooped  eyelids,  and  with  a  faintly  sarcastic 
curve  to  her  lips.  "  Of  course,  being  a  democratic 
person,  you've  talked  all  these  radical  changes 
over  with  your  men?  Of  course  you've  given 
them  an  opportunity  to  say  whether  or  not  they 
think  these  changes  are  wise  ?  Of  course  you 
could  n't  think  of  adopting  the  paternal  attitude  ?  " 

"  This  is  the  second  time  you  've  said  that  to 
me,"  he  observed. 

He  felt  the  light  scorn  in  her  voice  and  her 
eyes,  but  it  did  not  sting  him ;  he  was  conscious 
of  stimulus  in  her  words,  not  of  criticism.  His 
eyes  dilated  and  his  whole  face  kindled ;  he  stood 
on  his  feet,  very  straight,  and  looked  out  a  long 
way  over  Agnes'  head  with  an  intent  smile  on  his 
lips. 

"  That 's  what  I  '11  do,"  he  said  presently. 

"  Oh,  don't !  "  cried  Agnes ;  "  I  don't  know 
why  I  said  it.  It  is  n't  sensible !  Nobody  does 
it !  "  She,  too,  stood  up,  and  the  blossoms  fell  about 
her  feet.  "  I  'm  only  a  girl ;  I  have  n't  any  expe- 


42  THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

rience.  I  just  say  what  comes  into  my  head.  I 
beg  your  pardon  !  " 

"  Don't  you  think  I  am  in  earnest  ? "  he  said, 
the  light  of  her  inspiration  still  flashing  in  his 
eyes.  "  I  'm  sure  your  father  would  approve  — 
are  n't  you  ?  I  've  been  making  up  my  mind 
towards  this  thing  for  six  months,  and  now  I  seem 
to  see  a  way.  Thank  you." 

"  You  're  neither  of  you  fit  to  run  a  business," 
she  retorted.  "  I  know  father  is  n't ;  he  is  much 
too  high  minded." 

"  Perhaps  I  may  take  that  as  a  compliment  ?  " 
said  Christopher. 

She  stooped  to  pick  up  the  nasturtiums,  but 
she  wanted  to  cry  and  to  laugh,  for  joy.  "  He  is 
just  like  the  hero  in  a  story  book,"  she  said  to 
herself.  "  He  cares  about  doing  things ;  he  is  full 
of  the  power  of  living  for  other  people ;  I  have 
never  known  any  one  like  him.  Then  it  is  really 
true  that  things  can  happen  in  the  nineteenth  cen 
tury  !  " 

He  addressed  the  orioles  in  the  elms :  "  Shall 
I  make  it  a  profit-sharing  scheme  ?  The  world 
would  n't  be  so  shocked  at  that ;  it 's  been  done 
successfully  before.  Or  shall  I  give  up  my  capi 
tal  ;  divide  it  into  twelve  hundred  equal  parts,  a 
share  for  every  man  ?  " 

Agnes  clasped  her  hands  in  her  distress.  "  No  ! 
You  don't  mean  it." 

He  rested  his  eyes  upon  her,  but  still  specula- 
tively,  and  continued  without  attending  to  her  en 
treaty  :  — 


PLAYING  WITH  FIRE  43 

"That  is  what  I'd  like  to  do.  But— I'm 
afraid.  They  don't  know  about  business  ;  they  're 
only  shoemakers.  And  besides,  wouldn't  that 
be  just  charity  ?  " 

"  Go  and  talk  to  father  some  more,"  she  pleaded ; 
"  he  never  rushes  into  action  in  this  silly  way." 

"  Have  I  rushed  ?  "  said  Christopher,  with  a 
smile.  He  was  teasing  her,  but  he  was  in  earnest, 
too.  "  I  've  said  I  would  consult  them,  but  that 
does  n't  mean  I  shall  do  what  they  tell  me  to.  I  'm 
really  very  deliberate  —  as  deliberate  as  a  man 
who  is  n't  a  scholar  with  all  eternity  before  him 
can  be.  Now  I  wonder  if  I  can't  strike  a  happy 
medium  ?  Something  that  will  give  them  a  share 
in  the  profits  while  it  is  educating  them  up  to  the 
right  level  to  own  the  capital  ?  And  in  the  inter 
val  I  can  regard  myself  as  their  trustee  in  man 
aging  the  shops  for  them  ?  Frankly,  don't  you 
think  that 's  possible  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  've  been  taught  that  all  things  are  possible," 
she  answered  coolly  ;  "  I  don't  think  you  're  going 
to  do  it  at  all." 

"Don't  you?  Well,  wait  and  see!"  His 
voice  was  low,  and  he  smiled  down  at  her  exult 
antly.  His  eyes  confused  her,  and  yet  she  wanted 
to  look  in  them  again.  He  was  young !  And  he 
cared  for  the  things  she  cared  for !  And  he  — 
was  not  afraid  of  making  mistakes. 

"  I  never  met  any  one  before  who  cared  in  just 
the  way  you  do,"  she  said  in  a  breathless  sort  of 
way. 


44  THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

"  And  I  never  met  any  one  who  cared  the  way 
you  do,  either,"  he  answered. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  care  —     I  —  I"  — 

"  I  dare  you  to  say  it  again,"  he  laughed,  com 
ing  closer  to  her. 

"  I  wish  I  had  gone  down  to  see  your  shops 
with  you,"  she  said  somewhat  incoherently. 

"  I  '11  take  you  now,  this  afternoon." 

"  No  ;  your  aunt  has  a  party." 

"  To-morrow,  then." 

"  We  are  going  home  to-morrow." 

"  To-morrow  !     Since  when  ?     Why  ?  " 

"  Because  — because  we  must !  " 

She  carried  the  flowers  indoors  after  that. 

"  I  want  to  go  home,"  she  said  to  herself.  "  I 
want  to  go.  I  wish  we  could  go  now.  I  —  oh  — 
I  want  to  go  !  " 

And  Christopher,  sitting  alone  in  his  study  that 
night,  with  the  bowl  of  nasturtiums  held  between 
his  hands,  said  :  "  I  '11  do  it  that  way  for  the  pre 
sent  ;  keep  it  under  my  own  control  and  give  them 
the  best  possible  conditions  till  they  are  able  to 
stand  alone  and  shoulder  the  burden  —  till  they 
have  had  a  chance  to  grow  a  bit  —  of  course  if 
they  are  willing.  Then  I  '11  make  myself  one  of 
them  and  keep  only  my  share.  But  it 's  safer  not 
to  shock  the  community  too  violently  in  the  be 
ginning.  And  yet  —  I  wonder  what  would  hap 
pen  if  I  did  ?  Another  man  might  dare  —  She 
.  lives  forever  at  the  heart  of  a  flame." 


CHAPTER  V 
CHRISTOPHER'S  PEOPLE 

THE  hall  in  which  the  Shoe  Workers'  Union  of 
the  town  of  Kenyon  held  its  meetings  was  slowly 
filling  with  men  and  women.  Now  and  again,  as 
the  crowd  gathered,  some  man  pulled  out  another 
settee  from  the  wall,  and  shoved  it  into  position, 
facing  the  platform.  The  president  of  the  union, 
a  laster,  kept  one  eye  on  the  door  and  fingered  the 
lapel  of  his  coat  nervously  while  he  exchanged 
loose  sentences  with  the  secretary.  The  night 
was  cool  for  September,  but,  despite  open  win 
dows,  the  hall  already  smelt  stuffy.  A  sullen  growl 
of  conversation,  broken  by  occasional  twitters  of 
laughter  from  a  group  of  women  standing  by  one 
of  the  windows,  pervaded  the  place.  The  trea 
surer  of  the  cutters  was  taking  this  opportunity  to 
collect  dues.  Several  men  filtered  through  the 
doorway,  and  the  laster  held  up  two  fingers  to  at 
tract  their  attention  and  called  out :  — 

"  Plenty  of  seats  up  front !  Will  the  lady  mem 
bers  over  there  by  the  window  please  take  seats  if 
they  don't  object ;  it 's  'most  eight  o'clock." 

The  lady  members  thus  addressed  stood  away 
from  one  another  with  a  little  rustle,  and  surveyed 


46  THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

the  room  in  search  of  empty  settees.  Two  or 
three  of  the  younger  ones  made  faces  at  the  laster. 
A  newcomer,  a  red-haired  young  man,  came  and 
sat  on  the  edge  of  the  platform,  and  stared  at  the 
crowd. 

"  What 's  up  ?  "  he  inquired  pleasantly. 

"  Maybe  you  think  I  know,"  replied  the  laster. 

"  I  told  you  t'ree  months  ago  this  sorter  thing 
could  n't  last,"  grumbled  another  man.  "  I  worked 
for  a  young  feller  —  James  B.  Trench,  he  is  — 
begun  just  like  this  one,  all  smooth-spoken  and 
everything  thought  of  the  men.  And  his  shops 
is  as  bad  as  old  Peter  Watson's  to-day.  It 's  all 
well  enough  till  they- git  squeezed  for  money,  and 
then  see  how  much  they  're  fond  of  the  men." 

"  You  think  it 's  a  cut-down,  then  ?  "  suggested 
a  little  sharp-eyed  man  with  smoothly  brushed 
oily  hair. 

"  I  don't  think  nothin',"  said  the  laster. 

"  If  it 's  a  cut-down,  why  would  n't  he  sneak  it 
on  us  in  the  shops  ?  They  don't  ring  no  bells  for 
a  cut-down,"  sneered  a  great  hulking  fellow  with 
no  collar  on  and  a  quid  of  tobacco  in  his  cheek. 

All  this  while  an  old  man  with  white  hair  and 
dark,  thoughtful  eyes  sat  on  a  front  bench  and 
said  nothing. 

A  trim,  sharp-featured  woman,  the  chairman  of 
the  stitchers,  had  come  up  to  ask  the  laster  to 
read  a  notice  from  the  stitchers  at  the  next  meet 
ing  of  the  Union  —  something  about  an  annual 
ball. 


CHRISTOPHER'S  PEOPLE  47 

"  I  heard  he  's  goin'  to  get  married,"  she  said 
in  a  high,  brisk  voice. 

"  Wen  they  git  married  they  blow  in  what  ten 
men  earns  in  a  year,  and  then  they  come  on  the 
shop  with  a  poor  mouth  and  says  we  '11  have  to 
retrench.  Oh,  I  know  um !  "  The  untidy  man 
shifted  his  quid  and  looked  about  for  a  spittoon. 

"  Maybe  he  '11  be  afther  invitin'  us  to  the  sarri- 
mony  the  night,"  volunteered  the  secretary. 

A  laugh  followed  this  remark,  and  the  grumbler 
who  had  worked  with  James  B.  Trench  said  :  — 

"  I  wonder  will  it  be  the  little  tow-headed  lady 
was  here  in  the  summer  ?  She  was  n't  much  on 
looks ;  there  's  better  lookin'  girls  than  her  down 
in  Kenyon  shoe-shops  to-day,  ain't  there,  Jirnmie  ?  " 
He  clapped  the  red-haired  young  man  on  the  back 
as  he  spoke,  and  the  red-haired  young  man  laughed 
and  said :  — 

"  Bet  your  life  !  " 

The  stitchers'  chairman  giggled  over  her  shoul 
der  as  she  went  back  to  the  other  women,  and  pre 
sently  the  other  women  laughed  noisily,  all  except 
Jeanie  MacDougal,  who  blushed  and  smiled. 

"  Say,  Jimmie,  get  a  brace  on,  and  let 's  have  a 
double  weddin',"  said  the  secretary. 

"  Aw,  shut  up !  "  replied  Jimmie,  and  added, 
returning  to  the  subject  under  discussion,  "  I  don't 
see  no  reason  why  he  is  n't  going  to  do  the  right 
thing  by  us  yet.  I  ain't  got  no  cause  to  suspicion 
him." 

The  old  man  on  the  front  bench  turned  his  eyes 


48  THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

approvingly  on  Jimmie,  and  opened  his  mouth  to 
speak ;  but  just  then  Christopher  came  into  the 
hall,  and  the  growl  of  conversation  was  suddenly 
hushed. 

Christopher  shook  hands  with  the  laster,  nodded 
to  the  red-haired  man,  and  asked  if  they  were  all 
here. 

"  I  think  they  are,  Mr.  Kenyon,  all  we  've  noti 
fied  ;  all  the  foremen  and  foreladies  is  here,  and 
we  sent  word  to  twenty-five  lasters,  twenty  stitch 
ers,  fifteen  cutters,  and  so  on,  down.  There  'd 
ought  to  be  about  two  hundred  and  fifty  here,  and 
I  guess  they  are ;  the  room  's  comfortably  full." 

"  Then  I  might  as  well  begin,"  said  Christopher, 
and  he  went  up  on  the  platform. 

For  as  much  as  a  minute  he  said  nothing.  He 
only  stood  looking  down  on  the  rows  of  men  and 
women  who  had  come  here  at  his  bidding  to  listen 
to  him.  At  first  he  had  thought  to  have  them  all 
come,  the  whole  twelve  hundred  —  his  people  — 
the  little  world  for  whom  his  will  was  law  ;  but  as 
he  considered  the  plan,  he  dreaded  the  stir  and 
gossip  which  such  a  step  must  cause,  and,  more 
over,  he  had  no  wish  to  advertise  his  new  idea  by 
hiring  the  town  theatre,  the  only  place  large 
enough  for  such  a  meeting.  So  he  contented  him 
self  with  calling  out  the  representative  men  and 
women,  the  most  intelligent. 

They  were  a  superior  lot  of  people,  these  shoe- 
workers  of  Kenyon,  citizens  of  the  town,  handing 
their  trade  from  father  to  son  ;  good  American  or 


CHRISTOPHER'S  PEOPLE  49 

Irish-American  stock  for  the  most  part,  with  a 
sprinkling  of  Scotch-Irish  and  French  Canadians ; 
used  to  a  hard  master,  but  a  just  one,  as  masters 
go  —  used  to  hard  times,  but  not  to  starvation. 
Some  of  the  older  ones  had  seen  Christopher  grow 
up  and  go  to  college  ;  they  remembered  him  as  an 
observant,  imperious  little  boy  who  poked  about 
among  the  benches  and  said,  "  Let  me  try ;  I  want 
to  see  if  I  can  do  that." 

They  remembered  him  again,  at  home  for  a  va 
cation,  musing  half  an  hour  at  a  time  in  the  door 
way  of  the  lasting-room,  or  moving  slowly  down 
the  alleys  between  the  benches,  to  pause  beside 
some  worker,  lose  himself  in  his  thoughts,  and 
break  the  silence  suddenly  with :  "  You  are  organ 
ized,  of  course?  "  Or  :  "  You  think  piece-work  is 
more  desirable  than  time-work  ?  "  Or  some  other 
question  equally  disconcerting  and  calculated  to 
arouse  suspicion. 

When  he  left  college  he  went  to  Europe  for  a 
year  before  entering  the  firm,  and  vague  rumors 
floated  through  the  factory  of  his  studying  condi 
tions  on  the  other  side. 

"  So  's  to  know  how  to  grind  us  down  cheaper 
when  he  comes  back.  Damn  these  college  dudes  ! 
They  make  the  worst  kind  when  they  takes  to  it 
serious." 

During  his  father's  lifetime  he  contented  him 
self  chiefly  with  putting  in  improved  machines ; 
but  even  this  had  its  suspicious  side. 

"  New  machines  means  somebody  's  got  to  lose 
a  job,"  they  said  among  themselves,  and  waited. 


50  THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

And  then  the  old  gentleman  died,  and  there  was 
the  estate  to  settle,  and  there  were  the  books  to 
examine,  and  —  "  These  books  shall  never  again 
record  such  a  profit  as  this,"  Christopher  said. 

He  kept  his  word. 

He  was  going  to  keep  it  now,  as  he  stood  on  the 
platform  before  his  people  and  looked  down  into 
their  distrustful  faces. 

"  When  I  was  a  boy  in  college,"  he  began,  "  my 
friends  all  tried  to  keep  me  from  going  into  busi 
ness.  They  said,  '  Be  a  lawyer,  be  a  doctor,  be  a 
college  professor ;  only,'  —  they  all  said,  teachers 
and  fellows  alike,  — '  only  don't  go  into  business.' 
They  told  me  I  was  an  idealist,  a  dreamer,  and  I 
could  n't  keep  my  dreams,  my  ideals,  my  faith  in 
human  nature,  if  I  dabbled  with  industrial  mat 
ters.  They  told  me  industrial  matters  were  hope 
less  —  better  keep  out.  And  I  would  n't  listen  to 
them.  I  said  my  father's  factory  was  waiting  for 
me,  and  just  because  I  had  a  better  education  than 
some  men  who  were  in  the  shoe  trade,  and  just 
because  I  saw  the  evils  of  the  present  way  of  liv 
ing  more  clearly  than  some  men,  all  the  more,  for 
those  reasons,  I  had  no  right  to  shirk  the  chance 
that  lay  ready  to  my  hand  to  make  things  better 
if  I  could.  My  friends  said  I  was  a  fool.  Some 
times  I  think  I  am." 

The  audience  were  absolutely  silent,  and  sat 
staring  at  him  with  bewildered  eyes ;  his  strange 
beginning  had  claimed  their  attention ;  they  lis 
tened. 


CHRISTOPHER'S  PEOPLE  51 

Christopher  stood  a  little  straighter  and  raised 
his  voice. 

"  I  have  called  you  together  this  evening  because 
I  want  you  to  help  me.  I  am  not  satisfied  with 
the  way  the  factory  is  being  run." 

Surely  no  one  uttered  a  sound,  no  one  stirred, 
and  yet  —  a  shiver  went  through  the  hall. 

"  I  have  been  going  over  the  books  during  the 
past  six  months,  and  I  am  not  satisfied  with  the 
profits  "  — 

Again  that  shiver,  this  time  audible. 

"  They  are  too  large." 

When  two  hundred  and  fifty  people  catch  their 
breath  the  sound  is  a  strange  one ;  there  is  a 
click  in  it,  and  afterwards  the  air  trembles. 

A  woman  in  the  back  of  the  room  whispered, 
"  He  's  gone  crazy.  Oh,  my  God  !  poor  thing !  " 
and  bit  her  lip  and  her  handkerchief  to  keep  back 
the  tears. 

"  People  have  called  me  a  dreamer,"  continued 
Christopher,  "  and  I  mean  to  take  them  at  their 
word.  I  mean  to  make  my  factory  —  our  factory 
—  a  shoe  factory  to  dream  about.  But  I  've  been 
hunting  for  one  to  model  on,  and  I  can't  find 
it." 

Some  man  broke  into  a  subdued  guffaw,  and 
the  audience  rustled  and  smiled  nervously. 

"  I  know  that  the  conditions  in  the  Kenyon 
shops  are  pretty  good,  as  shops  go  —  better  than 
most." 

The  red-haired  man  nodded  sympathetically. 


52  THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

"  But  that 's  not  saying  much,  when  you  con 
sider  what  goes  on  in  some  shops." 

The  lowering  silence  that  followed  this  remark 
answered  Christopher  better  than  words  could  have 
done. 

"  I  've  been  trying  to  plan  better  things,  but  I 
can't  do  it  alone.  In  fact,  I  don't  feel  that  I  have 
a  right  to  do  it  alone.  Perhaps  you  are  satisfied 
with  things  as  they  are ;  perhaps  you  don't  want  a 
change.  And  if  you  don't,  I  can't  see  that  I  have 
any  right  to  impose  my  ideas  upon  you.  You  make 
the  shoes  ;  I  don't." 

All  eyes  in  the  room  were  staring  at  him  per 
plexedly.  Again  he  raised  his  voice  and  straight 
ened  his  shoulders. 

"  I  've  brought  you  here  to-night  to  help  me  ;  I 
want  to  know  what  you  would  consider  ideal  con 
ditions,  the  very  best  conditions,  for  a  shoe  shop. 
I  want  to  see  the  thing  with  your  eyes.  I  might 
put  in  improvements,  looking  at  matters  from  the 
employer's  point  of  view,  which  would  not  be  in 
the  least  practical  from  your  point  of  view.  I 
want  to  get  your  point  of  view.  The  only  time 
an  employer  gets  at  his  men's  minds  in  these  days 
is  when  he  has  goaded  them  into  a  strike.  You 
would  be  ready  enough,  you  union  men,  to  tell  me 
what  I  must  n't  do,  after  I  had  done  it.  Tell  me 
now  what  I  ought  to  do.  I  don't  promise  to  do  it, 
but  I  want  to  know  what  it  is.  What  would  you 
consider  first-class  conditions  for  a  shoe  shop  ?  " 

He  paused,  and  the  people  began  to  look  at  one 


CHRISTOPHER'S  PEOPLE  53 

another  uneasily,  to  mutter  scraps  of  sentences, 
derisive,  angry,  puzzled. 

"  Yes,  it  is  a  question,"  he  said.  "  I  want  an 
answer  —  anybody." 

The  murmur  grew,  and  there  was  a  scornful 
note  in  it. 

"  No,  I  am  not  jollying  you,"  he  began  again, 
catching  up  a  word  from  the  front  bench  and  lift 
ing  it  to  the  platform,  greatly  to  the  embarrassment 
of  the  man  who  had  muttered  it.  "  I  have  asked 
a  plain  question  in  all  seriousness,  and  I  want  an 
answer." 

The  murmur  subsided,  people  began  to  nudge 
one  another.  Suddenly,  in  the  back  of  the  hall, 
a  woman  stood  up.  She  was  an  American  woman, 
middle-aged,  with  gray  hair  and  a  quiet,  thought 
ful  face;  she  spoke  slowly,  but  her  English  was 
fairly  accurate.  The  audience  twisted  on  the 
settees  to  look  at  her. 

"  I  don't  consider,"  she  began, "  I  don't  consider 
that  there  can  be  such  a  thing  as  a  shoe  shop,  or 
any  other  kind  of  a  shop,  fit  to  dream  about,  until 
it  can  be  founded  on  a  cooperative  basis,  where  all 
share  alike  and  the  shop  is  the  shop  of  all  the 
people  that  works  in  it.  But  there  is  n't  any  use 
saying  this.  I  'm  not  crazy  enough  to  suppose  it 
would  be  done.  I  'm  just  talking." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Christopher. 

The  old  man  on  the  front  settee  arose,  leaning 
with  one  hand  on  his  stick. 

"  Ten  hours  is  too  long  a  working  day  for  any 


54  THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

man,"  he  said.  "I've  read  that  it  ought  to  be 
eight;  the  reasons  were  good,  in  the  book.  Of 
course  you  could  n't  do  it,  Mr.  Kenyon,  with  every 
body  else  working  long  hours.  But  maybe  you  'd 
like  to  read  about  it." 

"  I  have  read  about  it,"  Christopher  answered. 

The  audience  stirred  and  whispered,  and  glanced 
furtively  at  the  young  master,  waiting  on  the  plat 
form. 

"I'd  like  to  say,"  said  the  red-haired  man,  ris 
ing  and  throwing  his  head  back,  "  that  this  piece 
work  ain't  all  it 's  cracked  up  to  be.  I  'm  ge.ttin' 
mighty  sick  of  it.  But,  then,  what 's  the  use  ? 
shoemakers  has  always  had  piece  -  work ;  only 
there  's  them  —  and  this  I  '11  say  because  from  the 
talk  to-night  I  believe  you  mean  well  by  us,  and 
I  'm  willin'  to  be  free-spoken  "  — 

Christopher  inclined  his  head  gravely. 

"  There  's  this  I  '11  say :  that  even  in  Kenyon 
shops  —  and  they  're  the  best  shops  goin' "  — 

The  old  man  knocked  on  the  floor  with  his  cane, 
and  Christopher  again  acknowledged  the  compli 
ment  by  a  bend  of  his  head. 

"  Even  in  Kenyon  shops  there  's  them  as  don't 
dare  put  into  the  office  all  they  earns  every  week 
for  fear  it  '11  bring  a  cut-down,  on  account  of  this 
devil's  way  of  fixin'  the  price  of  the  work  by  the 
fastest  worker.  They  saves  it  over  till  a  week 
when  they  earns  less,  or  else  they  gets  some  slow 
worker  to  put  it  on  his  slip  and  give  them  the 
pay." 


CHRISTOPHER'S  PEOPLE  55 

Angry  glances  were  darted  at  Jimmie,  and 
somebody  muttered  "  Shame  ! ' ' 

"  Yes,  I  know  this,"  said  Christopher,  and  his 
people  hushed  and  looked  at  him  with  stealthy 
anger. 

"  Mr.  Kenyon  has  already  "  —  a  voice  began. 

"  Stand  up  !  " 

*'  Show  yourself !  " 

"Can't  hear!" 

Jeanie  MacDougal,  very  pink  and  shy,  rose 
from  among  the  stitchers. 

"  You  have  already  made  equal  wages  for  men 
and  women,  Mr.  Kenyon." 

"  Hardly  that ;  I  've  made  a  temporary  excep 
tion  in  your  favor,  to  end  when  your  father  comes 
back  to  work  on  the  first  of  January.  But  I  am 
willing  to  consider  the  question  of  equal  wages,  if 
any  of  you  believe  in  it." 

He  glanced  around  for  an  answer ;  but  the  faces 
were  either  dazed  or  willfully  blank. 

"  I  suppose  you  know  that  the  general  adoption 
of  the  plan  of  payment  of  equal  wages  means,  in 
time,  the  driving  of  women  out  of  industry  ?  " 

Casey  and  the  old  man  and  the  oily,  black-haired 
laster  nodded  assent,  but  the  rest  of  the  audience 
showed  no  intelligence  on  the  subject. 

"  Because,  if  an  employer  has  to  pay  a  woman 
the  same  as  a  man,  he  's  going  to  hire  the  man 
every  time." 

The  chairman  of  the  stitchers'  jumped  up. 

"I  don't  see  no  harm  if  it  means  the  men '11 


56  THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

have  to  take  care  of  the  women.  There  ain't  many 
of  us  workin'  in  Kenyon  shops  to  pass  the  time." 

The  little  woman  snapped  her  eyes  and  sat 
down,  and  everybody  laughed. 

The  man  without  a  collar  stumbled  to  his  feet 
next,  and  swayed  back  and  forth  clumsily  a  moment 
before  he  spoke. 

"  I  believe  to  see  cooperation  and  the  eight-hour 
day  in  heaven,  same  as  the  rest  of  you,  but  I  take 
it  Mr.  Kenyon  ain't  plannin'  to  make  shoes  to 
walk  on  the  golden  streets  yet  awhile.  Nor  I  ain't 
got  the  prospect  of  bein'  supported  by  no  man, 
the  way  the  women  has  if  there 's  a  change.  There 
ain't  better  shops  in  the  country  than  these  Ken 
yon  shoe  shops  ;  I  'd  ought  to  know ;  I  've  worked 
in  enough  of  'em.  And  I  say  let  well  enough 
alone  —  the  way  things  is  ;  we  might  do  worse  ; 
this  is  good  enough  for  me  ;  I  'm  satisfied." 

The  audience  applauded  this  man,  and  watched 
Christopher  to  see  if  an  expression  of  satisfaction 
was  what  he  had  really  wanted  from  them  all  along ; 
but  something  in  his  face,  a  gravity  that  was  al 
most  sadness,  disconcerted  them,  and  the  clapping 
died  away  into  an  embarrassed  silence. 

"  Perhaps  you  '11  understand  me  a  little  better, 
perhaps  you  '11  trust  me  a  little  more,  when  you 
know  what  I  believe,  and  where  I  stand,"  he  began 
again;  "only  be  fair  with  me,  for,  God  knows, 
I  mean  fair  by  you.  I  thank  you  for  dealing  with 
me  even  as  frankly  as  you  have;  Mrs.  Sennett 
says  no  shop  will  be  ideal  for  her  until  it  is  cooper- 


CHRISTOPHER'S  PEOPLE  67 

ative ;  Mr.  Morse  thinks  we  work  too  long  hours ; 
and  my  friend  Jimmie  Casey  here,  who  used  to 
beat  me  at  marbles  down  on  Kenyon  common" 
(the  audience  warmed  visibly),  "says  he's  tired 
of  piece-work.  Then  there  are  some  of  you  who 
are  suspicious  of  change,  and  call  yourselves  satis 
fied  because  you  are  afraid  of  falling  out  of  the 
frying-pan  into  the  fire.  I  wonder  how  you  would 
feel  if  you  were  in  my  place  ?  What  would  you 
do  ?  I  am  running  a  factory  under  a  competitive 
system,  and  —  I  don't  believe  in  competition." 

There  was  applause  from  that  part  of  the  hall 
where  Mrs.  Sennett  sat. 

"  I  am  living  on  an  income  of  twenty-five  thou 
sand  a  year  at  the  lowest,  and  Jimmie  Casey  is 
living  on  an  income  of  —  well,  to  put  it  at  its  best 
showing,  and  not  allow  for  a  dull  season,  seven 
hundred  and  fifty  a  year  ;  and  the  chief  reason  is 
because  my  father  owned  the  factory  and  handed 
it  over  to  me,  and  Jimmie's  father  did  n't.  And 
I  can't  seem  to  make  that  out  a  good  and  sufficient 
reason.  The  man  in  college  who  taught  me  the 
most  and  the  best  that  I  know  said  to  me  once : 
'  It  is  the  men  and  women  who  sit  at  the  benches 
in  your  father's  factory  and  make  shoes  ten  hours 
a  day  who  are  sending  you  through  college.'  I 
have  never  forgotten  it,  and  I  said  then,  '  Please 
God,  they  shall  never  be  sorry  they  sent  me.  No ! 
better  than  that,  they  shall  be  glad,  some  day ! ' 

They  cheered  him  then. 

"  When  I  was  an  undergraduate,  the  fellows 


68  THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

called  me  a  socialist ;  now  that  I  am  a  manufac 
turer  they  ought  to  call  me  a  liar ;  that  is,  when 
they  don't  call  me  a  fool.  Of  course,  I  could  get 
out  of  the  trade.  I  could  give  up  the  fight,  close 
up  the  business,  and  hand  over  the  shops  to  a  man 
who  would  run  them  as  the  world  expects  them  to 
be  run.  I  have  thought  of  doing  that,  and  then 
— I  have  thought  of  you.  There  are  enough  bad 
shops  getting  worse  all  the  time  ;  I  won't  help  to 
make  another  one  worse.  It  is  n't  merely  that  I 
should  be  getting  out  of  the  difficulty  and  salving 
my  conscience  by  giving  it  all  up ;  I  can't  sell 
twelve  hundred  men  and  women  into  worse  in 
dustrial  slavery  than  that  they  already  endure. 
As  long  as  there  are  slaves  in  trade  I  '11  keep 
my  slaves  to  myself,  and  try  to  treat  them  like 
men." 

A  great  sigh  went  up  over  that  hall,  men  sat 
white  and  tense  in  their  chairs,  women's  lips  quiv 
ered. 

"  And  it's  because  I  want  to  treat  you  like  men 
that  I  've  called  you  here  to-night.  For  God's 
sake,  don't  make  me  have  to  treat  you  like  slaves." 

"We  won't,"  cried  Jimmie  Casey,  rising  in 
his  seat;  and  other  men  cried  out,  and  a  hoarse 
shout  arose,  mingled  with  the  sobs  of  women.  It 
was  such  a  grief -stricken  expression  of  joy  that 
Christopher,  standing  on  the  platform,  watching 
the  bewildered,  agitated  faces,  wept  in  his  heart 
over  them. 

"  Then  you  will  help  me  to  carry  out  my  dream  ?  " 


CHRISTOPHER'S  PEOPLE.  59 

He  stretched  out  his  hands.  "  I  can't  move  with 
out  you ;  it  would  be  very  easy  for  me  to  let  things 
go  on  in  the  old  way,  and  spend  my  surplus  in 
charity.  But  I  don't  believe  in  charity !  I  won't 
build  hospitals,  I  won't  found  workingmen's  homes ! 
Let  the  sick  rot,  and  the  poor  starve,  let  misery 
increase,  till  the  world  understands  why !  Charity 
is  not  what  you  want,  you  men  !  " 

"  No  —  no  —  no  —  no  —  no !  " — 

The  sound  grew  into  a  roar. 

When  it  had  died  away  Christopher  continued : 

"  No !  What  you  want  is  work !  Decent,  educat 
ing,  strengthening,  soul-building  work,  that  makes 
thinking,  right-minded  human  creatures  of  you. 
Not  charity,  that  pauperizes  you ;  not  slavery, 
that  eats  up  all  your  time  and  strength  and  does 
not  keep  you  properly  alive  ;  but  work,  that  makes 
every  man  his  own  master." 

"  Hurrah-rah-rah-rah ! " 

They  stood  up  in  their  seats  and  cheered  him, 
and  his  eyes  kindled  and  sent  out  fire  into  the 
audience. 

"  I,  too,  want  work,"  he  said,  "  the  right  kind  of 
work.  Share  my  work  with  me !  " 

"  We  will,  we  will !  " 

Jimmie  Casey  and  Mr.  Morse  started  the  cry, 
and  it  was  taken  up  all  over  the  hall. 

"  Then  listen  to  me !  Send  me  committees  from 
your  unions,  to  confer  with  me  on  changes.  Send 
committees  on  wages,  on  time,  on  anything  that 
needs  discussion,  —  on  cooperation.  Send  men  and 


60  THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

women.  In  two  days  begin  to  send  them,  and  we 
shall  see  what  we  can  do.  In  so  far  as  coopera 
tion  is  practicable  in  this  competition-ridden  age, 
we  '11  have  it ;  in  so  far  as  short  hours  are  prac 
ticable,  we  '11  have  them  ;  if  equal  pay  for  men  and 
women  is  right  for  now,  we  '11  have  it.  You  shall 
advise  with  me.  I  thank  you.  Only  trust  me ;  I 
mean  fair." 

He  came  down  from  the  platform,  and  they 
broke  out  into  cheers.  When  he  could  make  him 
self  heard  he  said  :  — 

"  Go  home  now,  and  begin  to  plan  committees. 
Let  the  work  be  done  through  the  unions.  Good 
night." 

As  he  closed  the  door  and  went  downstairs  into 
the  street,  the  cheering  and  the  sound  of  a  great 
number  of  people  moving,  the  sound  of  benches 
and  feet  and  voices,  followed  him. 

"  They  are  roused,"  he  thought ;  "  they  are  very 
hard  to  rouse,  bitterly  hard !  but  I  have  done  it. 
I  must  not  frighten  them  now  by  too  radical  mea 
sures.  I  wonder  how  much  I  dare  ?  Christopher, 
you  are  going  to  convert  the  world  yet  —  you  and 
she." 

In  the  hall  the  excited  people  were  staring  at  one 
another.  Some  of  them  went  down  to  the  street 
at  once.  Others  collected  in  little  knots  among  the 
disorderly  settees. 

"  Of  course  you  took  notice  that  it  was  *  coopera 
tion  so  far  as  is  practicable,'  '  short  hours  so  far 
as  is  practicable.'  Of  course  you  took  notice  of 


CHRISTOPHER'S  PEOPLE  61 

that,"  said  the  untidy  man  to  his  neighbor.  He 
of  the  oily  hair  laughed  uneasily,  and  addressed 
Jimmie  Casey. 

"  Say,  Jimmie,  goin'  to  call  the  cutters  to-night  ?" 

"  You  bet !  "  cried  Jimmie. 

"What  do  you  think?"  queried  the  lasters' 
chairman.  "  Is  it  a  new  bluff  ?  " 

Jimmie  had  moved  away  and  another  man  an 
swered  :  — 

"  I  'm  damned  if  I  see.  For  all  his  talk  he  's  a 
cute  one ;  he  ain't  showed  his  hand." 

"  If  it 's  all  his  money,"  said  the  chairman  of 
the  stitchers,  "  what 's  it  but  charity,  anyway  ?  " 

And  Jeanie  MacDougal  replied,  in  her  soft 
Scotch  voice :  — 

"  Of  course  all  love  is  charity  ;  but  is  it  not  that 
all  charity  is  not  love  ?  And  Mr.  Kenyon  has  a 
very  large  heart." 

"  'Course  you  would  n't  get  her  to  say  nothing, 
the  way  he's  treated  her  father,"  said  another  girl ; 
"  and  Jimmie 's  her  steady  —  he 's  got  to  stick  up 
for  her  relations." 

"Say,  Tom,  goin'  to  send  in  a  committee?" 
some  man  asked  the  laster. 

"  Oh,  I  suppose  so.  He  's  runnin'  this  show, 
and  if  he  wants  committees  he  can  have  'em.  There 
ain't  no  reason  for  the  union  standing  out  against 
him  yet.  But  if  this  here  's  a  trick  !  " 

Old  Mr.  Morse  went  slowly  along  the  street, 
shaking  his  head,  and  a  tear  ran  down  his  cheek. 

"  That  I  should  have  lived  to  see  the  day,"  he 


62  THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

murmured,  over  and  over  again,  "  that  I  should 

have  lived  to  see  the  day  !  " 

But  the  union  secretary  joined  him  and  said :  — 
"  I  would  n't  be  after  feelin'  too  rej'icin',  Mr. 

Morse.     He 's  a  good  heart,  that  young  man,  but 

I  ain't  so  sure  but  they  're  right  w'en  they  calls 

him  a  fool." 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  FANATIC 

THE  Rev.  Philip  Starr  had  been  hearing  com 
plaints  and  giving  advice  all  day,  and  he  was  tired. 
He  had  closed  the  door  upon  the  last  suppliant  and 
was  sitting  at  his  desk  by  the  window  with  his 
face  uplifted  to  the  late  afternoon  light.  It  was 
a  rough-hewn  face,  blocked  out  with  bold  chisel- 
strokes  that  had  slipped  sometimes  at  the  corners. 
The  cheek  bones  were  big  and  high,  the  nose  was 
massive,  and  the  lips  were  full  but  almost  color 
less.  The  head  was  crowned  by  a  mop  of  very 
wavy  hair,  dark  brown,  gleaming  red  in  the  light. 
There  were  shadows  in  the  face,  deep  places  under 
the  eyes,  —  violet  eyes  they  were,  —  and  shallow 
places  along  the  cheeks.  Not  even  his  most  doting 
parishioners  ventured  to  call  the  Rev.  Philip  Starr 
handsome ;  but  the  cultured  ones  said  lovingly  that 
the  saints  in  the  old  pictures  had  shadows  like 
those  in  their  faces,  and  the  uncultured  cried  with 
joy,  "  Ain't  he  got  the  smile !  " 

His  lips  were  grave  now,  as  he  looked  wearily 
out  across  the  small  bricked  back  yard  which  his 
assistant  called  "  the  close ; "  but  his  eyes  followed 
the  sunshine  slipping  through  the  alley.  It  was 


64  THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

characteristic  of  him  that  when  tired  he  uncon 
sciously  turned  his  face  toward  the  light,  and  con 
sidering  this  peculiarity,  the  rectory  study  ought 
to  have  had  more  than  one  window. 

"  Why  don't  you  cut  another  ? "  Christopher 
sometimes  asked;  "the  old  ladies  of  the  parish 
would  delight  in  paying  the  bill." 

"  Because  I  don't  need  it." 

"  I  wonder  if  you  ever  realize  that  you  need  any 
thing!"  exclaimed  Christopher,  and  his  friend 
said :  — 

"  I  don't  know  that  that  is  my  business." 

There  was  an  open  letter  from  Christopher  on 
the  desk  this  evening,  and  the  young  clergyman 
took  it  up  after  a  moment,  and  re-read  it  by  the 
waning  light. 

"  I  suppose,"  he  said  musingly,  "  that  he  is 
walking  straight  into  the  jaws  of  martyrdom.  I 
wonder  what  she  thinks  of  him  ?  And  it  was  she 
who  put  it  into  his  head  to  do  this,  he  says,  last 
July.  I  think  I  must  call  upon  her,  she  comes  so 
often  to  the  church,  and  she  looks  so  terribly 
earnest  sometimes.  I  wonder  if  she  —  I  wonder  if 
Chris?"  — 

The  Rev.  Philip  Starr  rose  to  his  feet  and  stood 
looking  out  of  the  window,  his  hands  clasped  be 
hind  his  back. 

"  The  rector,  he 's  always  runnin'  after  stray 
sheep,"  one  of  his  parishioners  said  ;  and  that  part 
of  the  intellectual  world  which  existed  outside  of 
Philip's  Christianity  stood  disconcerted  before  his 


THE  FANATIC  65 

missionary  spirit.  To  believe  in  state  control  of 
railways,  and  at  the  same  time  to  wear  a  cassock,  — 
these  two  things,  which  seemed  incompatible  in  the 
eyes  of  the  orthodox  radicals,  nevertheless  drew 
them  by  a  certain  fascination  to  St.  Jude's,  where 
they  sat  listening  askance,  gingerly,  as  fearful  that 
the  miracle  of  conversion  might  overtake  them 
unawares.  Sometimes  the  rector  preached  on  Ba 
laam's  inspired  beast,  sometimes  on  the  spiritual 
necessity  for  physical  fasting,  sometimes  on  the 
divine  hopelessness  of  the  modern  social  problem 
and  the  glory  of  Christian  failure.  And  always 
the  orthodox  radicals  failed  to  get  the  point ;  but 
they  got  a  vast  deal  of  mysticism  and  unrest  and 
dissatisfaction  out  of  the  sermons,  a  vast  deal  of 
stimulus  which  they  needed.  And  they  always 
came  again. 

Christopher  came  sometimes,  when  he  happened 
to  be  in  the  city ;  but  he  was  not  an  orthodox  rad 
ical,  and  he  was  not  afraid  of  being  converted. 
That  was  the  hopelessness  of  it.  He  had  his  work 
to  do,  and  he  was  satisfied.  Agnes  came,  too,  very 
often ;  and  she  was  not  an  orthodox  radical  either 

—  she  was  not  an  orthodox  anything.     But  she 
was  not  satisfied,  and  she  had  nothing  to  do.    Once 
Agnes  and  Christopher  came  together,  and  Philip 
saw  them,  and  a  consciousness  of  being  very  young 
and  very  solitary  smote  upon  him.     He  preached 
on  the  Incarnation  that  day  and  Agnes  kindled 
under  his  words  ;  and  Christopher  looked  afar  off 

—  or  else  he  looked  at  Agnes.     Both  those  young 


66  THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

men  looked  often  at  Agnes.  Philip  was  looking 
at  her  now,  in  thought,  as  he  stood  by  his  win 
dow. 

"  Such  an  intense  little  face !  seeking  —  seek 
ing  !  I  '11  go  to  see  her  soon.  I  think  I  can  help 
her.  Dear  old  Chris  !  I  'm  glad  for  him  ;  I  'm 
glad  for  him  "  — 

After  a  moment  the  Rev.  Philip  Starr  made 
the  sign  of  the  cross  upon  his  breast  and  stood 
so  tensely  still  that  it  seemed  he  almost  held  his 
breath.  He  had  preached  a  great  deal  about  re 
nunciation  in  his  little  day.  The  shadows  lay 
darker  on  his  face,  and  the  bricked  yard  was  all 
gray.  There  was  no  one  to  pass  by  and  stare  at 
the  young  rector  looking  out  of  his  window. 

The  bell  rang  as  he  stood  there,  and  a  man's 
voice  outside  in  the  hall  said  :  — 

"  He  does  not  usually  see  people  at  this  hour, 
you  say  ?  I  'm  sorry.  Will  you  give  him  my  " — 

"  Come  in !  "  called  Philip. 

There  was  a  brief  silence  before  the  door  was 
opened  by  a  sort  of  janitor  or  sexton  or  errand 
boy,  whose  baffled  expression  of  countenance 
plainly  said,  "  How  am  I  ever  to  carry  out  your 
instructions  if  you  don't  uphold  me  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Starr,  this  is  most  kind  of  you,"  said  the 
old  gentleman  who  followed  the  boy. 

"  Not  at  all,  Mr.  Watson ;  I  recognized  your 
voice,  and  I  never  feel  that  I  have  a  right  to  keep 
busy  men  waiting.  Charlie,  I  think  you  have  n't 
brought  in  my  lamp ;  get  it,  won't  you  ?  Here  is 


THE  FANATIC  67 

a  chair,  Mr.  Watson,  right  at  your  hand.  The 
days  are  growing  shorter." 

The  old  gentleman  sat  down  and  stared  curi 
ously  about  him,  while  the  long  cassocked  figure 
strode  into  the  dimness  of  the  narrow,  cell-like 
room  and  emerged  with  another  chair.  There 
were  books  on  one  side  of  the  room,  from  floor  to 
ceiling ;  the  window  and  the  desk  were  on  the 
other  side,  and  a  plain  wooden  cross.  The  floor 
was  bare  and  unpolished.  There  was  no  curtain 
at  the  window,  only  a  plain  shade,  which  Philip 
drew  down  as  the  boy  entered  with  a  lighted 
student  lamp. 

"  He  has  come  to  ask  me  to  help  him  do  some 
thing  disagreeable  to  some  of  his  workmen  who 
attend  St.  Jude's,  I  suppose,"  thought  the  clergy 
man  as  he  seated  himself  in  the  extra  chair  and 
waited  for  his  visitor  to  speak. 

Mr.  Watson  withdrew  his  eyes  from  their  sur 
vey  of  the  room  and  turned  them,  still  perplexed 
and  questioning,  upon  Philip's  face ;  then  he  came 
out  of  his  reverie  with  a  slight  bend  of  the  head 
and  a  smile  of  apology. 

He  was  a  robust  old  gentleman  with  a  broad  red 
face,  made  broader  and  more  red  by  the  expanse 
of  fuzzy  white  whisker  which  rayed  out  from  his 
cheeks.  He  had  the  inquisitive,  sharply  smiling 
blue  eye  which  goes  with  a  certain  type  of  bene 
volence,  and  below  his  flat,  smooth-shaven  upper 
lip  was  a  long  line  of  mouth  which  ran  away  at 
both  ends  into  his  whiskers  when  his  eyes  smiled. 


68  THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

He  was  not  unique ;  he  looked  like  a  great  many 
other  prosperous  and  well-intentioned  old  gentle 
men. 

"  I  've  come  to  consult  you  on  two  matters  that 
are  very  near  my  heart,  Mr.  Starr,  and  I  want 
your  cooperation,"  he  began. 

"  Exactly,"  thought  Philip,  but  he  preserved  a 
discreetly  attentive  silence. 

"  You  and  I  are  fellow  workers  in  the  humani 
tarian  movement,  Mr.  Starr,  and  we  ought  to  stand 
shoulder  to  shoulder  in  this  good  cause.  It  is  a 
disgrace  to  society  the  way  the  philanthropists  are 
pulling,  each  in  his  own  direction  and  for  the  sake 
of  his  own  hobby.  We  shall  never  begin  to  ac 
complish  anything  until  we  can  leave  off  distrust 
ing  each  other's  methods  and  adopt  some  plan  of 
concerted  action." 

Philip  bowed  politely  to  this  platitude. 

"  Now  there  is  young  Christopher  Kenyon,"  the 
visitor  continued ;  "  his  father  and  I  went  to  school 
together  —  as  fine  a  young  fellow  as  breathes  to 
day,  I  am  firmly  convinced,  but  deluded  by  — 
However,  I  did  not  mean  to  speak  of  him  just  yet. 
Later  !  later !  Mr.  Starr,  I  am  thinking  of  found 
ing  a  hospital." 

"  Ah ! "  Philip  leaned  forward  with  a  sense  of 
relief,  and  smiled  appreciatively. 

The  old  gentleman  also  leaned  forward,  encour 
aged  by  this  sympathetic  reception  of  his  plan,  and 
continued :  — 

"  You  don't  think  there  are  too  many  hospitals 


THE  FANATIC  69 

already,  Mr.  Starr  ?  You  don't  think  the  city  is 
overburdened  with  hospitals  ?  I  have  met  with 
that  objection  from  some  people." 

"  No,  I  do  not ;  my  experience  with  hospitals  is 
that  there  may  be  any  number  of  them,  but  they 
always  unite  in  drawing  the  line  at  just  the  par 
ticular  case  I  want  them  to  undertake." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  this  from  a  competent  au 
thority  ;  glad  indeed,  Mr.  Starr.  You  lift  a  weight 
off  my  mind.  For  I  will  confide  to  you,  this  is 
no  mushroom  project,  sprung  up  in  a  night.  I 
think  you  would  be  interested  in  learning  the  his 
tory  of  this  hospital ;  it  is  to  be  a  workingmen's 
hospital,  Mr.  Starr." 

"A  splendid  thing  !  "  said  Philip  heartily. 

"  More  than  that,  built  by  the  workingman  him 
self." 

Philip  looked  puzzled. 

"  Several  years  ago,  Mr.  Starr,  I  confided  my 
desire  for  just  such  a  hospital  to  my  superin 
tendent  ;  he  is  an  excellent  man,  —  a  Christian 
man  "  — 

"  I  have  heard  of  him,"  observed  Philip  dryly. 

Mr.  Watson  glanced  at  the  young  man,  and 
added :  "  Doubtless  the  men  grumble ;  it  is  the 
prerogative  of  the  men  to  grumble.  He  has  borne 
their  ill-will  with  a  truly  Christian  spirit,  and  all 
the  while  that  they  have  exerted  their  petty  spite 
against  him  he  has  been  rearing  for  them  this 
monument  of  benevolence.  I  spoke  to  him  of  this 
dear  wish  of  my  heart,  and  he  said :  '  You  shall 


70  THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

have  your  hospital,  Mr.  Watson,  and  the  men 
shall  build  it  for  you ;  it  shall  be  built  not  only 
for  workingmen,  but  by  workingmen.  I  will  en 
gage  to  save  enough  money  out  of  the  wages  of 
the  operatives  in  the  next  five  years  to  build  this 
institution.'  And,  Mr.  Starr,  he  has  done  it  — 
actually  done  it !  To  me  there  is  something  Napo 
leonic  in  an  achievement  like  that." 

"Decidedly  Napoleonic,"  assented  Philip,  and 
after  a  pause,  "  There  are  more  ways  than  one  of 
making  the  workingman  help  himself."  His  eyes 
were  dangerous  as  he  said  this,  but  his  lips  twitched. 

"  Of  course  I  shall  attend  to  the  endowment," 
the  old  man  resumed,  "  but  the  building  itself  will 
cost  close  on  to  two  hundred  thousand ;  although 
we  shall  rule  out  all  luxury,  all  useless  softness  of 
living,  that  would  tend  to  make  the  men  discon 
tented  with  their  lot.  Now,  we  shall  be  wanting 
a  chaplain  for  this  hospital,  Mr.  Starr,  and  of 
course  we  shall  not  have  a  Catholic ;  that  would 
be  out  of  the  question  ;  I  could  not  conscientiously. 
But  a  number  of  my  men  come  to  St.  Jude's,  and 
they  all  know  you  and  like  you,  and  "  — 

"  You  said  there  were  two  matters  about  which 
you  wished  to  consult  me,"  interrupted  Philip. 
"  Perhaps  we  could  come  back  to  this  later." 

He  wanted  time  to  overcome  his  indignation, 
and  refuse  the  chaplaincy  with  becoming  meek 
ness.  The  humor  of  the  situation  only  inflamed 
him  to  sarcasm,  and  he  had  no  wish  to  lose  his 
temper  before  this  estimable  old  gentleman. 


THE  FANATIC  71 

"  The  second  matter  —  ah,  yes ! "  sighed  Mr. 
Watson ;  "  that  is  about  our  friend  Christopher. 
Do  you  know  what  that  young  man  is  doing  now, 
Mr.  Starr  ?  Have  you  heard  ?  " 

"He  keeps  me  pretty  well  inforined  as  to  his 
life,"  Philip  answered.  "  He  and  I  are  friends, 
Mr.  Watson ;  we  were  schoolboys  together  —  there 
is  no  man  to-day  whom  I  trust  more  implicitly 
than  I  do  Christopher  Kenyon." 

There  was  a  warning  note  in  Philip's  voice  as 
he  said  these  words.  Perhaps  old  Peter  Watson 
was  a  little  deaf. 

"  So  I  supposed,  so  I  supposed,"  he  replied ; 
"  that  was  why  I  came  to  you ;  I  knew  that  if 
anybody  could  turn  him  from  his  insane  course, 
you  could.  Frankly,  Mr.  Starr,  I  love  this  young 
man.  We  are  competitors ;  but  what  is  competi 
tion  ?  I  have  watched  that  boy  grow  up.  When 
his  father  died  and  the  market  was  uneasy  and 
suspicious  of  him,  —  rightfully  suspicious,  as  I  now 
realize,  —  I  could  have  drawn  off  half  of  his  buy 
ers,  half  of  his  buyers !  But  I  refrained.  I  said : 
'  This  is  a  young  man ;  he  has  his  way  to  win ; 
don't  make  it  too  hard  for  him,  Peter ;  you  were 
a  young  man  once.'  And  I  refrained.  And  what 
is  the  result  of  this  forbearance  on  my  part,  Mr. 
Starr  —  what  is  the  result  ?  This  young  man  is 
ruining  trade.  He  is  setting  himself  up  against 
good  old  Adam  Smith.  He  is  actually  trying  to 
teach  me  and  all  the  other  manufacturers  in  the 
country  how  to  run  a  shoe-shop.  Why!  I  was 


72  THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

making  shoes  before  that  boy  was  thought  of,  Mr. 
Starr  —  before  he  was  thought  of!  Understand 
me,  I  don't  come  to  you  to-day  for  my  own  sake. 
I  come  for  the  sake  of  the  boy.  He  is  not  hurting 
me.  Beyond  creating  a  passing  flurry  in  the 
trade,  beyond  taking  off  a  few  men  from  my  shops 
—  men  who  can  always  be  replaced  !  Men !  Why, 
men  are  the  cheapest  thing  in  the  market  to-day  ! 
He  does  n't  hurt  me,  he  does  n't  hurt  any  of  the 
rest  of  us  ;  he  only  ruins  himself.  He  is  ramming 
his  head  against  a  stone  wall,  and  I  am  sorry  for 
him.  That  is  why  I  am  here  to-day,  Mr.  Starr." 

"  Yes,  truly,  he  is  ramming  his  head  against  a 
stone  wall,"  said  Philip  in  a  strange  tone.  "  Even 
I,  who  am  no  business  man,  can  see  that." 

"  Then  labor  with  him,  Mr.  Starr ;  plead  with 
him.  You  are  the  one  to  do  this.  You  are  his 
friend,  and  of  his  own  age.  We  old  folk  are  held 
in  no  reverence  by  fhe  present  generation;  he 
would  not  listen  to  me.  And  I  am  a  quick  man ; 
it  is  not  soothing  to  have  a  young  whippersnapper 
rise  and  insinuate  that  the  business  one  has  con 
ducted  for  thirty  years  on  the  strictest  principles 
of  business  honor  is  all  a  lie.  Who  should  be 
able  to  judge  of  business  honor  if  not  I,  who  for 
almost  half  a  century  have  never  failed  to  answer 
for  every  scrap  of  paper  to  which  my  name  was 
signed?  Honor!  Perhaps  I  am  growing  old,  Mr. 
Starr;  perhaps  I  feel  these  slights  too  keenly. 
There  are  other  younger  men  who  only  laugh  and 
say, '  Let  him  break ! '  —  and  he  will  break.  Mark 


THE  FANATIC  73 

me,  he  will  break ;  not  this  year,  perhaps,  nor 
next,  but  the  crash  must  come.  He  is  sinking  his 
money  in  a  bottomless  pit.  He  can't  stand  out 
alone  against  all  the  rest  of  the  community.  The 
workingman  is  hand  and  glove  with  him  now,  but 
that  is  because  the  workingman  is  sucking  his 
life-blood.  Mr.  Starr,  the  workingman  is  a  leech ; 
he  is  never  satisfied.  This  young  man  is  prepar 
ing  a  dangerous  retribution  for  himself ;  he  is 
laying  a  fuse  beneath  the  foundations  of  a  peace 
ful  commercial  community ;  he  is  creating  revo 
lutionists  to  break  down  this  splendid  republic 
which  his  forefathers  have  so  prayerfully  builded. 
And  when  his  money  is  gone,  who  will  feed  his 
pauperized  eight-hour-a-day  workingmen  ?  Not  I, 
Mr.  Starr;  this  I  declare  that  not  one  of  those 
ungrateful  fools  shall  be  taken  back  into  my 
shops;  not  one!  There  are  always  men  to  be 
had." 

"  Why  do  you  ask  me  to  speak  to  him  ?  "  said 
Philip.  "You  call  him  young;  but  I  also  am 
young." 

"  You  are  a  minister  of  the  Gospel,  Mr.  Starr ; 
upon  what  can  the  world  rely  for  stability  if  not 
upon  the  Church  ?  " 

Then  that  danger  signal  in  Philip's  eyes  blazed 
out  in  one  flash,  and  he  got  up  and  walked  to  the 
other  end  of  his  study. 

"  It  is  a  bitter  thought  to  me  that  you  should 
assume  that  the  Church  has  taken  from  me  the 
power  of  being  young  like  other  men,"  he  said, 


74  THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

coming  back.  "  What  is  the  stable  age  whereto 
we  are  all  leveled  that  are  ordained  priests  ?  Sta 
bility  !  How  dare  the  world  look  to  the  Church 
for  stability?  —  the  world  that  says  stability  is 
death;  that  says  absence  of  competition  means 
stagnation  of  ambition,  means  standstill,  means 
the  impeding  of  progress.  '  Let  us  alone  to  man 
age  our  seesaw  of  competition,'  you  cry.  '  This  is 
business ;  religion  is  different.'  And  wealth  goes 
up,  up,  up,  on  the  seesaw.  But  when  the  poverty 
end  of  that  plank  strikes  bottom  it  is  going  to 
strike  hard,  and  the  other  end  would  better  take 
care." 

"  Mr.  Starr,  you  astonish  me  !  "  gasped  the  old 
gentleman. 

"And  you,  also,  have  astonished  me,"  said 
Philip.  "  If  I  had  been  less  astonished,  perhaps, 
I  should  not  have  spoken  so  plainly." 

"  You  mistake  my  meaning  when  I  say  sta 
bility." 

"  I  think  not.  You  mean  it  in  two  ways :  re 
spectability,  when  you  apply  it  to  the  Church; 
death,  when  you  apply  it  to  the  world.  There  is 
another  meaning,  which  is  a  real  one.  Yes,  truly 
the  Church  is  stable,  because  her  God  is  stable ; 
but  when  the  day  comes  that  she  is  stable  because 
her  priests  are  stable,  then  will  there  be  death 
indeed.  But  that  day  is  never  coming.  Mr. 
Watson,  if  the  world  were  ruled  Christ's  way,  do 
you  think  there  would  be  any  need  of  docking  the 
workman's  pay  in  order  to  build  him  a  hospital  ? 


THE  FANATIC  75 

If  the  world  were  ruled  Christ's  way,  would  there 
be  any  need  of  taking  precautionary  measures  to 
prevent  men  from  being  discontented  with  their 
lot  in  life,  even  their  hospital  lot  ?  If  the  world 
were  ruled  Christ's  way,  would  Christopher  Ken- 
yon  be  ramming  his  head  against  a  stone  wall 
while  all  the  rest  of  the  peaceful  commercial  com 
munity  looked  on  and  said,  '  Let  him  break '  ? 
Would  man,  who  is  made  in  God's  image,  be  the 
cheapest  thing  in  the  market  to-day  ?  " 

Bright  tears  stood  in  Mr.  Watson's  eyes,  and 
he  wiped  them  away  with  his  handkerchief  and 
blew  his  nose.  He  had  always  prided  himself  on 
being  responsive  to  emotional  appeals;  he  had 
had  long  training  in  revival  meetings. 

"  You  are  an  idealist,  Mr.  Starr,  and  it  is  right 
that  you  should  be,"  he  said.  "  I  too  am  an  ideal 
ist,  but  I  am  an  older  man ;  neither  have  I  been 
subjected  to  that  appeal  of  mysticism  which  your 
Church  makes  constantly  to  its  ministers,  and 
which  seems  to  me  a  little  too  dangerously  inflam 
matory  when  made  to  the  pure  idealist.  Not  that 
I  blame  you,  Mr.  Starr  —  but  I  fear  you  have 
much  disillusion  before  you,  and  I  doubt  if  your 
mysticism  will  save  you  from  disillusion.  No,  if 
the  world  were  ruled  Christ's  way,  many  of  these 
deplorable  things  that  you  mention  would  not 
be  true.  But  I  insist  that  it  must  be  ruled 
Christ's  way  by  Christians,  and  the  people  who  put 
forth  these  socialistic  theories  are  a  godless  crew. 
I  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  a  movement  which 


76  THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

has  not  '  Jesus '  as  its  watchword.  And  beware, 
Mr.  Starr,  do  not  tamper  with  your  religion.  Flee 
the  tempter.  When  progress  means  anti-Christ  it 
must  be  shunned." 

"  Then  when  you  cut  down  your  shoe-workers' 
wages  in  order  to  build  them  a  hospital,  your 
watchword  was  '  Jesus  '  ?  "  Philip  said  gravely. 

"  It  most  assuredly  was.  A  hospital !  Do  you 
know  of  anything  more  beneficial  to  the  commu 
nity  than  a  hospital,  unless  it  be  a  church,  Mr. 
Starr?" 

"Yes;  what  Christopher  Kenyon  is  doing  is 
more  beneficial." 

"  More  beneficial !  My  dear  sir,  think  a  minute ! 
Whom  does  it  benefit  ?  Look  forward,  look  for 
ward  !  Not  our  young  friend  Christopher,  who 
has  all  the  crushing  forces  of  competition  arrayed 
against  him,  and  must  go  to  the  wall.  Not  the 
workmen,  who  will  be  thrown  out  of  a  job  when 
the  crash  comes,  and  will  be  in  bad  odor  with  the 
other  manufacturers.  Not  the  market,  which  wants 
cheap  shoes.  Look  beyond  !  " 

"  I  do ;  and  the  people  who  will  be  benefited  are 
all  those  who  will  stand  by  and  see  him  fight 
against  the  world  for  the  thing  he  believes  is  the 
truth,  and  see  him  fail,  and,  perhaps,  see  him  die 
—  although  we  don't  die  in  a  commercial  civiliza 
tion." 

"  No,  we  only  commit  suicide,"  interrupted  Mr. 
Watson.  "Take  care,  take  care,  young  man. 
There 's  more  in  commercial  warfare  than  mere 


THE  FANATIC  77 

endurance  ;  there 's  more  than  a  possibility  of  fail 
ure  and  death ;  there  is  a  possibility  of  sin." 

"There  is  always  a  possibility  of  sin,"  said 
Philip  sternly. 

Mr.  Watson  rose.  "  Then  see  to  it  that  when 
the  end  comes  you  have  n't  this  foolish  boy's  soul 
on  your  conscience.  I  know  —  I  know,"  waving 
his  hand  impatiently,  —  "I 've  seen  high-minded 
men  go  into  business  before  ;  I  've  been  at  it  forty 
years,  and  I  ought  to  know  the  temptations." 

"  Mr.  Watson,  I  would  rather  a  man  should 
die  with  all  the  world  against  him  than  make  one 
hair's-breadth  compromise  with  his  conscience  for 
safety's  sake.  And  competition  or  no  competi 
tion,  to  me  the  action  of  the  man  who  deprives  his 
fellow  beings  of  their  physical,  intellectual,  and 
spiritual  heritage  by  underpaying  them  and  over 
working  them,  is  just  as  truly  a  sin  as  the  action 
of  the  man  who  steals  his  neighbor's  name  and 
writes  it  in  a  check-book,  although  the  world  con 
dones  the  one  offense  and  condemns  the  other.  I 
believe  in  martyrdom.  My  faith  is  fixed  and 
grounded  in  martyrdom.  Who  says  that  we  have 
a  right  to  believe  in  temporal  success  —  in  any 
success  save  that  of  laying  down  our  lives  a  failure 
in  the  eyes  of  the  world  ?  Only  the  non-Christian 
have  any  right  to  believe  in  what  is  called  success. 
Even  the  possibility  that  competition  may  put  my 
friend  in  the  dilemma  of  choosing  between  sins, 
even  the  possibility  that  he  may  fall,  is  not  enough 
to  make  me  dissuade  him  from  his  course.  To 


78  THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

show  the  world  the  dilemma  would  do  it  more  good 
than  building  it  a  hospital.  And  —  one  never 
quite  believes  that  one's  friend  will  fall." 

The  old  gentleman  wiped  away  another  tear  and 
pulled  himself  together. 

"  Well,  I  '11  say  good-night,  Mr.  Starr.  I  came 
on  a  fool's  errand,  it  seems ;  but  I  like  you  two 
misguided  young  men.  And,  by  the  way,  Kenyon 
is  non-Christian,  is  he  ?  He 's  quite  insolent  about 
his  certainty  of  success." 

"  Yes ;  God  is  very  tender  to  Christopher.  He 
has  given  him  a  cross  that  shall  be  heavier  than 
yours  or  mine  can  ever  be.  Good-night." 

Outside  in  the  street  old  Peter  said  thought 
fully:— 

"  Interesting  phenomenon,  a  fanatic." 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  PASTORAL  MODE 

IN  those  autumn  days  a  charmed  quiet  settled 
upon  Agnes  like  a  cloud,  and  wrapped  her  away 
from  the  world  into  a  kind  of  mental  invisibility. 
The  stillness  of  her  mood  baffled  the  professor 
and  oppressed  him  with  a  foreboding  of  change. 
Hitherto  he  had  found  her  thoughts  ready  and 
clamoring  for  inspection,  and  now  —  they  were  not 
there.  Nevertheless,  he  was  conscious  that  very 
close  to  him,  even  though  unseen,  she  was  think 
ing.  Her  restless  desire  for  action  had  stopped, 
and  she  sat  for  hours  by  her  window  looking  out 
across  the  college  yard,  through  sunless  haze  and 
the  gray-browns  and  olives  of  November  trees,  see 
ing  —  something  that  she  did  not  speak  about, 
something  that  must  have  been  neither  joy  nor 
sorrow,  so  entirely  thoughtful,  so  without  smiles 
or  tears  was  her  face.  And  when  she  was  not 
looking  out  of  the  window  she  sat  by  the  fire  in 
her  father's  study,  if  he  were  away,  and  held  a 
book  open  on  her  knees  —  any  book. 

Philip  found  her  thus  one  afternoon  not  long 
after  his  encounter  with  Mr.  Watson.  And  to 
Philip  the  quietness  which  was  upon  her,  the  in- 


80  THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

tensity  of  thoughtfulness,  was  simple,  if  unspeak 
able,  for  this  was  his  own  mood.  He  stood  within 
the  veil,  and  the  mystery  to  which  she  leaned, 
a-hush,  beckoned  him  also. 

"  Then  you  do  sometimes  call  upon  people  who 
are  not  your  parishioners  ?  "  Agnes  said,  with  a 
new  slowness  of  speech,  as  if  her  mind  were  com 
ing  back  from  somewhere  else.  "  Why  ?  "  She 
asked  the  question  with  a  bit  of  a  smile,  and  sat 
down  again  in  her  little  armchair  by  the  fire, 
motioning  him  to  a  seat. 

"  I  have  come  to  talk  to  you  about  Christopher," 
answered  Philip.  "  He  is  n't  in  the  parish  either, 
but  you  and  I  are  his  friends,  and  I  think  that 
now,  and  in  the  years  to  come,  he  is  going  to  need 
his  friends." 

"  Oh,  are  you  frightened  also  ?  "  she  said  wea 
rily.  "  Are  you  also  distrustful  of  anything  that 
involves  action  ?  So  many  people  have  been  talk 
ing,  and  they  are  all  so  amazed,  poor  things  I 
Even  father  is  troubled,  although  of  course  he 
does  not  feel  justified  in  having  an  opinion  as  yet. 
But  you  have  been  preaching  just  the  sort  of 
thing  that  Mr.  Kenyon  is  trying  to  put  into  prac 
tice.  Are  sermons  only  words,  after  all?  When 
is  the  not  dangerous  time  for  putting  theories  into 
practice  ?  How  are  you  going  to  get  around  your 
kind  of  exhortation  ?  But  I  suppose  you  have  to 
be  prudent ;  clergymen  always  have  to  be  pru 
dent" 

"  I  'in  afraid  I  can't  flatter  myself  I  have  dis- 


THE  PASTORAL  MODE  81 

played  an  objectionable  or  even  an  unobjection 
able  amount  of  prudence  in  the  affair  thus  far," 
he  said,  with  a  smile  of  reminiscence ;  "  and," 
slowly,  "  as  for  getting  around  '  my  kind  of  exhor 
tation  '  —  I  don't  think  I  shall  try  to  get  around 
it." 

"  You  don't  think  you  will  try  to  get  around  it ! 
Then  you  —  ah !  "  —  As  the  meaning  of  his  words 
was  borne  in  upon  her,  her  face  became  so  full  of 
power,  and  hope,  and  passion  for  the  ideal,  that 
she  was  life-giving,  like  an  exalted  thought ;  she 
was  beautiful.  She  and  Philip  looked  at  each 
other  with  radiant  eyes  purified  by  the  vision  of 
their  common  ideal.  And  then  she  caught  her 
breath  with  a  little  sob  and  all  her  face  broke  into 
trouble  and  tenderness,  and  she  cried  :  — 

"Talk  to  him,  Mr.  Starr!  Plead  with  him! 
They  say  he  cannot  succeed,  and  he  will  not  listen. 
Oh,  I  am  afraid!  And  it  was  I  who  helped  to 
make  him  do  it.  He  ought  not  to  have  let  me.  I 
have  no  experience.  It  was  wicked  of  me,  but  I 
laughed  at  him.  And  now  he  is  doing  this  splen 
did  thing.  And  —  it  means  failure  ?  " 

She  wanted  him  to  reassure  her. 

"  Yes,  it  means  failure,"  he  said. 

She  sat  with  her  hands  clasped  round  one  knee, 
and  looked  long  into  the  fire. 

"Don't  you  know  it  means  failure?"  he  re 
sumed  at  last. 

"Yes." 

*'  Have  we  Christians  any  right  to  look  forward 


82  THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

to  world  success  ?  Have  we  any  right  to  demand 
anything  higher  than  His  height?" 

"  I  am  not  a  Christian,"  she  said  defiantly. 

Philip  looked  full  into  her  face  without  speak 
ing,  and  she  dropped  her  eyes. 

"  After  all,  don't  you  agree  with  me  that  no 
thing  can  be  called  failure  except  sin  ?  "  he  con 
tinued  presently. 

"  Yes ;  but  sin  is  such  a  general  term :  the 
Great  Failure  was  because  of  sin.  Aren't  you 
arguing  in  a  circle?  And  besides" — her  tone 
was  light  but  still  defiant  —  "  you  came  to  talk  to 
me  about  Mr.  Kenyon ;  you  did  n't  come  to  con 
vert  me,  did  you  ?  " 

"  That  depends,"  said  Philip,  and  they  both 
smiled.  But  Agnes  grew  grave  again  after  a 
moment. 

"  He  could  n't  do  it  if  he  thought  it  would  not 
succeed ;  don't  you  know  he  could  n't  ?  "  she  said. 

"  Could  you  ?  "  Philip  asked  gently,  and 
waited. 

"  Yes,"  she  whispered. 

"Why?" 

She  shaded  her  eyes  from  the  fire  with  one 
hand  and  sat  very  still ;  Philip  could  only  see  the 
reverence  on  the  lips  that  would  not  answer  him ; 
and  suddenly  she  cried  out :  — 

"  But  I  don't  want  him  to  fail ;  I  don't  want 
him  to  fail !  He  has  n't  the  reason  for  submission 
to  failure  that  —  that  "  — 

"  That  you  and  I  have,"  Philip  ended  for  her. 


THE  PASTORAL  MODE  83 

She  did  not  contradict  him ;  she  only  glanced 
up  piteously,  then  looked  away  into  the  fire  and 
sighed. 

"  Tell  me  what  it  is  you  don't  believe,"  he  urged. 

"No." 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"  Because  I  am  afraid." 

"  Afraid  that  I  shall  convince  you  ?  "  His  voice 
and  eyes  were  full  of  pleading. 

"Oh,  no  —  not  afraid  of  you;  not  afraid  of 
any  one  outside  myself.  I  can  still  defy  the  world 
to  convince  me.  But  —  if  I  put  it  into  words,  I 
am  afraid.  The  words  will  play  me  false ;  I  am 
afraid  I  shall  convince  myself." 

"  Tell  me  what  it  is  you  don't  believe." 

"No!" 

"  Yes,  tell  me." 

"  If  I  do  not  believe  that  the  Man  who  volun 
tarily  made  the  Great  Failure,  and  promised  so 
much  before  He  laid  Him  down  on  the  cross  — 
Ah,  why  pursue  it  ?  " 

"  Yes  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Then  I  do  not  know  why  I  go  on  living ;  for 
eighteen  hundred  years  ago  the  end  of  the  world 
was  come,  and  all  the  rest  is  death." 

"  And  you  agree,"  Philip  added,  "  that  you  and 
I  have  a  reason  for  submitting  to  failure  which 
Christopher  has  not  ?  " 

He  waited  in  silence  a  few  moments,  for  he  saw 
that  she  could  neither  speak  nor  listen ;  then  he 
turned  the  subject. 


84  THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

"You  and  I  are  his  good  friends,"  he  began 
cheerily.  "  Let  us  take  counsel  together.  I  came 
partly  because  I  wanted  to  tell  you  that  I,  also, 
believe  in  him  and  in  the  thing  he  has  done ;  and 
I  shall  stand  by  him  whatever  comes.  I  know  you 
must  believe  in  him,  because  he  has  written  me 
that  you  suggested  this  course  of  action  to  him, 
and  you  yourself  have  told  me  that.  I  only 
wanted  you  to  know  that  I  would  stand  by  him." 

"  He  is  blessed  in  having  so  loyal  a  friend,"  said 
Agnes  with  some  constraint.  She  was  beginning 
to  realize  that  she  had  betrayed  a  good  deal  more 
than  ordinary  interest  in  Christopher's  affairs  dur 
ing  the  last  half  hour,  and  she  was  wondering  just 
how  much  this  young  clergyman  knew,  and  how 
much  he  took  for  granted.  Would  he  tell  Chris 
topher  how  distressed  she  was  ?  Fortunately  the 
firelight  made  blushing  easy. 

But  Philip  was  quick  to  note  the  reserve  in  her 
tone,  and  he  understood. 

"  I  don't  see  just  what  we  are  to  take  counsel 
about,"  she  said  lightly.  "  Of  course,  I  feel  par 
ticularly  interested  in  the  new  plan  because  it  was 
I  who  suggested  it  to  him ;  and  I  can't  help  having 
qualms  when  I  think  what  the  result  may  be.  I  am 
visited  at  intervals  by  a  sort  of  remorse.  But  I  'm 
afraid  I  'm  a  very  cold  sort  of  person,  Mr.  Starr ; 
you  see,  even  my  emotions  are  impersonal  and  sci 
entific  in  their  sources." 

"  You  're  not  like  old  Mr.  Watson,  then,"  said 
Philip,  smiling ;  "  he  came  to  remonstrate  with  me 


THE  PASTORAL  MODE  85 

about  Chris  the  other  day,  for  purely  personal  and 
affectionate  reasons,  he  said." 

"  Old  Mr.  Watson  !  "  exclaimed  Agnes.  "  Well, 
he  assuredly  can  do  the  most  impertinent  things  ! 
He  kissed  me  once  because  he  had  known  my 
mother  when  she  was  a  girl ;  took  me  completely 
by  surprise ;  and  father  was  so  angry !  But  he 
comes  to  the  house  now  and  again.  He's  been 
rather  nice  about  looking  up  safe  investments  for 
father,  and  seeing  that  our  modest  little  hoard 
does  n't  get  lost,  strayed,  or  stolen.  Tell  me  about 
him.  What  did  you  do?" 

"I  —  I 'm  afraid  I '  jumped  on  him  with  both 
feet,'  as  the  boys  say." 

"You !  "  Agnes  gave  a  little  crow  of  delight. 

"  He  meant  well,"  said  Philip  ;  "  but  he  is  old 
and  bewildered.  I  really  felt  quite  sorry  for  him 
at  the  end." 

"I  should  think  you  might;  it  was  the  least 
you  could  do  after  jumping  on  him." 

"  He  does  n't  predict  immediate  failure  for 
Chris"  — 

"  Oh,  he  does  n't !  "  Agnes  bristled. 

"  But  he  seems  to  think  that  it  is  inevitable,  with 
all  the  forces  of  competition  arrayed  against  him." 

"I  wonder  why  you  didn't  suggest  that  he 
should  join  the  minority  and  make  one  less  in  the 
array." 

"  You  would  n't  have  wondered  if  you  had  been 
there." 

"  The  reason  that  you  have  come  to  me  is  that 


86  THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

you  want  me  to  help  you  persuade  Mr.  Kenyon 
that  what  he  is  doing  will  fail ;  but  I  have  told 
you  that,  in  the  first  place,  he  cannot  be  convinced 
that  it  will  fail ;  and,  in  the  second  place,  he  could 
not  do  it  if  he  were  not  buoyed  up  by  the  hope  of 
success." 

"  No,  that  is  not  the  reason  I  came  to  you." 
Philip's  voice  was  lower  than  it  had  been. 

"  Then  what  else  can  I  do  ?  " 

"  You  can  help  me  to  help  him  to  understand 
the  meaning  of  failure." 

"  Ah ! "  There  was  pain  and  mockery  in  the 
little  cry.  "  You  wanted  to  convert  me  in  order  to 
save  your  friend's  soul ;  that  was  why  you  came." 

"No!" 

Something  in  his  voice  puzzled  Agnes,  and  she 
looked  at  him ;  but  he  was  sitting  quite  calmly  in 
his  chair  —  almost  too  calmly,  perhaps. 

"  That  was  very  rude  of  me,"  she  said. 

And  the  Rev.  Philip  Starr  thought  in  his  heart 
dully,  "  This  is  temptation,"  but  he  smiled  a 
friendly  response  to  her  apology. 

"  But  he  may  succeed,  you  know,"  she  persisted 
after  a  moment,  going  back  to  the  old  discussion. 
"People  do  succeed  sometimes — even  good  peo 
ple." 

"  Yes,  martyrdom  is  success,"  Philip  replied. 

"  Don't !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  I  will  believe  in 
success !  It  is  right !  and  the  right  always  tri 
umphs." 

"  So  it  does,"  assented  Philip,  rising. 


THE  PASTORAL  MODE  87 

"  And  yet,"  she  murmured,  "  I  suppose  I  shall 
try  to  help  you ;  I  'm  afraid  I  can't  help  trying. 
Only,  I  shall  never  convert  him.  I  can't  talk  of 
such  inward  things.  I  'm  not  a  missionary."  She 
held  out  her  hand,  and  her  words  were  light,  but 
her  eyes  were  reverent  and  wistful. 

He  walked  miles  that  afternoon,  praying  prayers 
that  he  did  not  stop  to  listen  to,  and  wondering  at 
himself,  and  God,  and  her. 

"  Even  if  there  were  no  Christopher  the  end 
would  be  the  same,  for  me.  Poverty !  Poverty ! 
Her  hair  is  gold ;  and  gold  is  not  for  me. 

" '  Good  Jesus,  Fountain  of  Love, 
Fill  us  with  Thy  Love ; 
Absorb  us  into  Thy  Love  ; 
Compass  us  with  Thy  Love. 

" '  That  we  may  — 

Win  through  Thy  Love  others  to  Thy  Love.' 

" '  Jesus,  Who  having  been  Thyself  tempted, 
knowest  how  to  succor  those  that  are  tempted: 
succor  us  in  our  temptations.'  " 

The  November  wind,  mist  laden,  blew  in  his 
face,  and  the  night  fell,  and  still  he  walked  on  — 
trying  to  thank  God. 


CHAPTER  VIH 

WOULD-BE  FRIVOLITY 

"  FATHER  has  got  it  in  his  head  that  he  is  n't 
doing  his  duty  by  me,"  Agnes  wrote  to  Christo 
pher  early  in  December.  "  He  insists  that  I  am 
growing  up  without  any  of  the  legitimate  pleasures 
of  youth,  and  that  it  makes  me  dull.  I  tell  him  he 
is  not  very  polite  to  say  so,  and  that,  moreover, 
the  legitimate  pleasures  of  youth  always  struck 
me  as  particularly  flat ;  but  he  says  I  only  say 
that  to  make  him  feel  comfortable,  and  he  won't 
be  satisfied  with  anything  less  than  an  '  At  Home ;  * 
so  an  '  At  Home  '  it  is  to  be.  You  know  the  kind : 
assorted  sizes  to  suit  all  ages.  Father  wanted 
to  make  it  entirely  young  people,  but  I  did  n't 
know  enough  to  fill  all  the  parlor  chairs,  so  we  've 
had  to  ask  a  few  heads  of  departments,  and  wives, 
and  things,  to  stand  round  in  corners  and  lean 
against  the  wall.  Those  who  are  not  infirm  may 
dance.  Will  you  come  ?  I  counted  you  in  when 
I  was  trying  to  fill  the  chairs.  We  shall  be  almost 
wholly  academic  if  you  don't,  and  it  is  not  good 
for  us  to  be  academic.  It  marbleizes  us ;  it  turns  the 
Galatea  metamorphosis  the  wrong  way  round.  I 
have  sent  a  card  to  Mr.  Starr,  but  perhaps  he  has 


WOULD-BE  FRIVOLITY  89 

forgotten  what  such  things  mean.  Please  explain, 
and  bring  him  if  you  can  ;  tell  him  if  he  does  n't 
come  we  shall  all  be  at  the  mercy  of  that  unenlight 
ened  Dr.  Chester,  of  St.  James',  who  believes  in 
neither  trades  unions  nor  incense.  I  am  sending 
a  little  note  to  your  aunt,  asking  her  to  spend  a 
few  days  with  us  before  the  party,  and  show  me 
how  to  do  things." 

Christopher's  answer  came  at  once. 

"  Yes,  I  will  come  to  your  party  if  you  will  come 
to  mine.  That  pretty  Scotch  girl,  whom  perhaps 
you  remember,  Jeanie  MacDougal,  is  going  to 
marry  a  nice  fellow  in  the  factory,  a  cutter,  who 
used  to  be  a  crony  of  mine  when  we  were  small 
boys.  The  wedding  is  to  take  place  the  twenty- 
ninth  of  December,  and  auntie  and  I  are  going  to 
have  a  reception  at  the  house  afterwards.  I  want 
to  make  it  a  kind  of  recognition  of  the  new  order 
of  things  that  is  to  begin  in  the  shops  with  the 
New  Year.  The  men  have  been  doing  splendid 
work  through  the  committees.  They  are  fine  fellows, 
and  as  soon  as  they  get  so  that  they  are  willing  to 
trust  me  we  shall  lift  the  world  up  another  notch. 
I  '11  bring  Philip  to  the  '  At  Home  '  if  moral  sua 
sion  will  do  it.  I  '11  tell  him  it 's  his  duty.  Do 
you  know  what  a  brick  he  's  been  all  through  this 
crisis  ?  He  's  written  me  letters  that  ought  to  go 
down  to  posterity  along  with  Burke  and  Milton. 
Regular  organ-prose,  with  the  trumpet-stop  pulled 
out  full  force  —  the  kind  that  sends  armies  to  their 
deaths  glorified.  If  it  had  not  been  for  you  and 


90  THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

Philip  I  don't  know  what  I  should  have  done  these 
last  two  months.  I  've  felt  discouraged  enough 
sometimes  to  go  and  drown  myself  —  except  that 
I  don't  do  things  that  way." 

Of  course  he  kept  her  letter,  and  she  kept  his. 

The  professor,  who  had  no  intellectual  sympa 
thy  with  aunt  Ada,  chiefly  because  she  had  no 
intellect,  could  not  see  why  she  must  be  invited  to 
spend  a  few  days  at  the  house. 

"  You  are  quite  capable  of  managing  this  little 
affair,  my  dear.  Indeed,  I  should  be  much  more 
willing  to  trust  you  in  an  emergency  than  her, 
although  she  is  twice  your  age.  She  has  a  dizzy 
mind." 

But  Agnes  said  :  — 

"  She  was  very  nice  to  us  while  we  were  in 
Kenyon,  and  I  have  n't  had  a  chance  to  show  her 
any  attention  since,  and  she  '11  like  to  come." 

She  did  like  to  come  ;  although  she  said,  with  a 
questioning,  troubled  look,  that  perhaps  she  was 
not  doing  right  to  leave  home  during  this  crisis. 

"  You  know  —  you  have  heard,  perhaps,  that 
Chris  is  making  some  changes  in  the  factory  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  I  wish  I  understood  business  matters  better," 
—  again  there  was  a  wistful  pause.  "  I  have  the 
most  complete  confidence  in  Chris,  and  I  know 
that  whatever  he  may  do,  even  if  it  should  be  a 
mistake,  he  is  doing  it  from  the  most  conscientious 
motives.  I  don't  exactly  see  why  people  should 
be  talking  about  it  or  why  it  should  get  into  the 


WOULD-BE  FRIVOLITY  91 

papers.  But  such  is  life,  and  we  must  bear  one 
another's  burdens.  I  had  a  letter  from  Anne 
Finchley  the  other  day,  —  Anne  and  I  were  room 
mates  at  the  academy,  —  and  she  had  seen  some 
thing  about  it  and  was  trying  to  find  out.  Anne 
always  did  have  her  full  share  of  curiosity,  but 
I  'm  not  putting  myself  out  to  answer  the  letter. 
What  paper  was  it  in,  Agnes  ?  And  —  and  —  it 
was  n't  favorable,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  It  was  only  an  editorial  on  the  general  trend 
of  reform  movements.  And  considering  the  fact 
that  all  the  newspapers  are  under  the  control  of 
capitalists,  and  are  obliged  to  stand  in  with  the 
employer,  it  was  remarkably  fair." 

"  But  Christopher  is  a  capitalist  and  an  em 
ployer  —  at  least,  I  always  inferred  so  from  what 
James  used  to  say." 

"  Yes,  but  it  is  not  quite  the  same  thing ;  he 
does  n't  want  to  be." 

Aunt  Ada  sighed  and  shook  her  head. 

"  This  trying  to  get  out  of  the  place  you  were 
born  to  occupy  in  the  world  seems  a  tempting  of 
Providence ;  it  works  on  my  nerves  dreadfully. 
His  father  was  so  different ;  a  kind  man,  but  be 
lieved  in  their  keeping  their  distance.  I  'm  afraid 
I  believe  in  that  too.  When  you  let  the  lower 
classes  get  out  of  focus  they  're  rude.  There  was 
no  one  readier  than  James  to  give  help  when 
any  of  the  hands  were  in  distress.  We  were 
always  cooking  jelly  or  broth  for  some  poor  sick 
soul.  But  —  I  trust  Chris  is  not  making  a  mis- 


92  THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

take  —  somebody  told  me  the  other  day  that  he 
was  going  to  give  up  his  place  at  the  head  and  go 
in  just  like  any  common  workman.  My  dear,  I 
will  confess  I  have  been  troubled  ;  I  expect  to  have 
him  brought  home  any  day  on  a  litter  by  the  infu 
riated  mob.  I  really  wish  I  could  find  out  what 
it  is  I  dread.  But  I  don't  dare  to  say  anything 
to  Chris ;  he  looks  so  grieved  when  I  venture  to 
advise." 

"  I  do  not  believe  he  is  making  a  mistake,  dear 
Miss  Kenyon,  but  he  does  need  to  feel  that  we 
trust  him." 

"  Trust  him  I  I  would  trust  him  with  my  last 
penny.  Indeed,  I  do.  He  looks  out  for  all  my  lit 
tle  money  affairs.  He  looks  out  for  Anne  Finch- 
ley's  affairs  too,  because  she 's  alone.  And  Mary 
Anne  Hapgood,  a  kind  of  fourth  cousin,  always 
trusted  her  investments  to  James  ;  and  now  Chris 
has  assumed  the  care  of  them  without  a  word,  and 
I  know  positively  that  he  never  thinks  of  charging 
her  a  cent  for  his  time.  And  I  approve  of  his 
being  busy,  '  for  Satan  finds  some  mischief  still.' 
And  now,  just  lately  I  found  it  out,  he  's  become 
trustee  for  that  Mrs.  Loring's  estate,  —  the  Loring, 
you  know,  who  died  and  left  that  large  family,  and 
the  mother  was  to  manage  the  estate.  It 's  just 
like  him  —  but  to  support  the  factory  in  idleness 
into  the  bargain !  I  can't  see  but  that  they  were 
very  well  off  before.  Of  course  they  have  to  work, 
but  the  laborer  is  worthy  of  his  hire,  and  James 
had  to  work  for  his  money  too.  And  they  have 


WOULD-BE  FRIVOLITY  93 

fairly  good  homes,  if  they  would  only  keep  them 
clean  and  in  repair,  and  when  they  're  sick  I  've 
been  down  myself  to  nurse  them.  There's  that 
McCarthy  baby  had  the  croup  "  — 

"  Now,  I  'm  going  to  leave  you  right  here  by  the 
window  where  you  can  see  the  boys  going  to  and 
from  the  classes,  through  the  yard,  Miss  Kenyon, 
while  I  run  in  to  the  city  for  an  hour.  I  've  told 
Maggie  to  keep  up  the  fire  in  the  library,  and  if 
your  friend  Mrs.  Hapgood  comes,  take  her  right  in 
there  ;  and  don't  you  think  she  would  like  to  stay 
to  luncheon  ? 

"  I  will  never  make  broth  and  jelly  for  any  poor 
person.  I  never,  never  will !  "  Agnes  said  to  her 
self  vehemently,  while  she  was  putting  on  her  hat ; 
"  I  won't  even  make  toast !  There  !  If  they  are 
not  able  to  afford  it  for  themselves,  then  the  world 
shall  enjoy  the  spectacle  of  seeing  them  die.  I 
only  wish  they  were  lying  by  the  roadside  now, 
dying  of  neglect.  I  don't  suppose  the  world  will 
lift  its  hand  to  change  things  until  they  are  as 
obvious  as  that.  But  meanwhile  the  system  is 
just  as  bad,  the  principle  is  just  as  wrong.  Oh, 
dear !  Father  will  say  I  am  jumping  at  conclu 
sions.  And  I  suppose  nobody  will  want  to  talk 
about  anything  else  at  the  party,  and  I  shall  get 
angry  and  say  rude  things  to  my  guests." 

It  was  quite  true  that  they  did  not  care  to  talk 
about  anything  else,  and,  being  for  the  most  part 
people  whose  daily  occupation  consisted  in  dis 
course,  they  handled  the  subject  with  a  volubility 


94  THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

and  fluency  which  were  peculiarly  exasperating. 
Even  the  girls  said  to  one  another :  — 

"Have  you  heard  about  Christopher  Kenyon? 
I  always  knew  he  'd  do  something  queer.  Is  he 
really  going  to  wear  a  leather  apron,  or  whatever 
they  wear,  and  work  in  the  factory  with  the  men  ?  " 

"  S-s-h-h,  there 's  his  aunt.  Somebody  said  he 
was  coming  to-night." 

"  I  should  think  he  'd  hate  to  go  about  when  he 
knew  everybody  was  talking,  should  n't  you  ?  " 

"  Are  they  engaged,  do  you  think  ?  " 

"  I  don't  object  so  much  to  the  thing  he  has 
done,"  said  the  Professor  of  Constitutional  His 
tory,  addressing  a  group  of  his  compeers.  "  This 
is  a  free  country ;  if  a  man  chooses  to  swamp  him 
self  in  a  cooperative  experiment,  I  see  no  reason 
why  he  should  n't  do  it." 

"  And  as  for  cooperation,  you  know,"  said  a 
graduate  student  who  was  hovering  on  the  out 
skirts  of  the  group,  "  it  is  n't  cooperation  ;  it  is  a 
mild  form  of  profit  sharing.  He  runs  his  shops  on 
an  eight-hour  day  and  union  rates  of  wages,  and 
equal  pay  for  men  and  women  where  the  women 
do  men's  work  —  all  this  at  the  desire  of  the  em 
ployees.  Then  he  gives  them  a  certain  per  cent. 
—  I  don't  know  just  what  —  of  the  profits  at  the 
end  of  each  year.  I  believe  if  at  the  end  of  a  few 
years  they  decide  they  want  to  put  their  profits 
into  the  business  and  buy  shares,  he  '11  make  the 
thing  cooperative  ;  but  he  does  n't  force  them  to 
do  it.  He 's  keeping  the  whole  affair  in  his  own 


WOULD-BE  FRIVOLITY  95 

hands,  just  like  any  ordinary  business.  There 's 
nothing  radical  about  his  scheme  ;  he 's  just  edu 
cating  the  men.  It 's  a  big  risk,  for  he 's  got  to 
pay  high  wages  and  go  on  short  hours,  and  he  's 
unprotected  in  bad  years  when  the  profits  run 
short ;  still,  he  keeps  the  men  from  meddling  in 
the  business  yet  awhile,  and  I  guess  he  's  all  right." 

"  But  I  must  say  I  find  his  method  disappoint 
ing,"  returned  the  Professor  of  Constitutional  His 
tory.  "  How  a  boy  brought  up  in  the  quiet  refine 
ment  and  self-contained  dignity  of  a  New  England 
home  could  bring  himself  to  address  a  large  meet 
ing  of  workingmen  in  that  sensational  manner  is 
more  than  I  can  understand.  And  there  was  no 
need  of  it.  He  could  have  obtained  the  same 
results  by  calling  together  the  foremen  and  con 
ferring  with  them  and  "  — 

"  Not  the  foremen,  professor,"  interrupted  the 
graduate  student  a  second  time.  "  He  wanted  to 
get  at  the  men,  you  know,  and  the  foremen  are 
considered  on  the  side  of  the  employer.  They 
are  n't  received  into  the  unions  since  that  row  in 
the  Knights  of  Labor,  when  they  were  found  act 
ing  as  spies." 

"  Then  he  could  have  chosen  men  from  their 
unions  "  -•— 

"  That  was  what  he  did,  only  instead  of  taking 
one  man  from  each,  he  took  several ;  and  consid 
ering  that  he  has  twelve  hundred  in  his  shops,  it 
seems  to  me  that  was  a  fairer  way.  Does  n't  it 
strike  you  so,  Professor  Gillespie  ?" 


96  THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

"  Still,"  said  Professor  Gillespie  slowly,  "  I 
deplore  the  sensational  character  of  the  meeting. 
I  cannot  feel  that  these  violent  shocks  adminis 
tered  to  public  opinion,  these  sudden  wrenchings 
away  of  what,  in  the  eyes  of  the  community,  has 
assumed  through  long  custom  a  perhaps  unnecessa 
rily  sacred  character,  these  willful  oppositions  to 
conventionality,  can  accomplish  in  the  end  what 
might  be  arrived  at,  more  slowly,  to  be  sure,  but 
more  permanently,  I  fully  believe,  through  the 
patient,  unobtrusive  education  of  the  community 
to  an  unconscious  acceptance  of  better  things. 
We  owe  something  to  the  community  in  which  we 
live.  We  have  no  more  right  to  be  discourteous  to 
the  community  than  we  have  to  be  discourteous 
to  the  individual." 

There  was  a  pause.  Professors  mused  with  eyes 
cast  down,  professors'  wives  settled  their  lace  in 
patient  silence,  and  the  graduate  student  walked 
away  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets. 

"  What  did  he  say  in  this  speech  ?  "  asked  the 
head  of  the  Department  of  Oriental  Languages. 

"It  was  not  reported,"  said  the  wife  of  the 
Professor  of  Greek.  "  They  seemed  to  manage  to 
keep  the  newspaper  men  out." 

"  That  does  not  look  as  if  he  meant  to  be  sensa 
tional,"  commented  a  young  English  instructor. 

"Oh,  understand  me,"  Professor  Gillespie  ex 
claimed  ;  "I  don't  for  a  moment  imagine  that 
Kenyon  had  any  ulterior  motive  in  calling  this 
meeting.  The  man  is  an  idealist  of  the  purest 


WOULD-BE  FRIVOLITY  97 

type ;  but,  like  all  idealists,  when  he  attempted 
action,  he  showed  his  inexperience  of  the  world  by 
his  method.  I  accuse  him  of  nothing  except,  per 
haps,  a  little  too  much  sentiment  —  and,  after  all, 
the  world  is  not  overrun  with  sentiment.  I  only 
wish  he  had  consulted  me  before  taking  the  step. 
I  might  have  been  able  to  restrain  him  a  little." 

"  They  say  he  quoted  you  as  an  authority  in  his 
speech,  professor,"  observed  the  wife  of  the  college 
librarian. 

"  Quoted  me  !  "  The  professor's  tone  was  one 
of  undisguised  annoyance ;  but  just  then  a  college 
senior  came  up  to  claim  the  wife  of  the  librarian 
for  a  square  dance  —  she  was  a  genial  lady  with 
two  pretty  daughters  —  and,  the  music  beginning, 
the  little  group  flattened  itself  against  the  parlor 
wall. 

"  Oh,  here  you  are  !  "  said  Agnes  to  her  father ; 
"  I  thought  you  were  in  the  library,  and  I  took 
Dr.  Chester  in  there.  Is  anything  the  matter  ?  " 
she  asked,  as  they  were  crossing  the  hall. 

"  I  have  just  heard  that  Kenyon  quoted  me  in 
his  speech,  and  it  is  a  little  annoying  —  one's  words 
get  so  distorted  sometimes  through  repetition.  For 
the  sake  of  the  college  I  should  not  care  to  be 
misrepresented ;  for  myself,  it  does  not  matter ; 
but,  in  a  way,  we  of  the  faculty  hold  the  college 
reputation  in  our  hands,  and  it  would  be  unwise 
that  I  should  be  quoted  as  advocating  inflamma 
tory  doctrine." 

"  You  dear  lamb  of  a  parent !  "  cried  Agnes, 


98  THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

patting  his  hand.  "Nobody  would  think  of  be 
lieving  that  you  advocated  doctrine  or  anything 
else  that  was  inflammatory.  Of  course  he  quoted 
you  —  whom  should  he  quote  if  not  you  ?  I  think 
it  was  very  nice  of  him,  if  he  did.  You  would  n't 
have  him  quoting  any  of  those  old  fossils  in  the 
department,  would  you  ?  " 

The  professor  smiled  uneasily,  but  Dr.  Chester 
was  standing  by  the  new  chess  table  in  the  library, 
and  further  remonstrance  was  impossible. 

Christopher  and  Philip  were  late,  because  Philip 
had  a  guild  meeting  to  attend  first.  When  they 
came  into  the  parlor,  Agnes  was  standing  under 
the  chandelier  talking  to  her  father  and  Mr.  Wat 
son.  She  was  dressed  in  some  heavy,  cream-col 
ored  material,  made  in  a  straight,  simple  fashion 
that  emphasized  her  smallness  and  her  slender- 
ness  ;  she  carried  in  her  hand  three  great  shaggy- 
headed  chrysanthemums,  —  cream  colored,  with 
flame-tipped  petals  and  long,  stiff,  green  stems ; 
there  were  other  chrysanthemums  like  them  in  a 
tall  jar  on  the  hearth. 

"  He  sent  her  those,"  thought  Philip.  "  Yes, 
that  is  the  way  they  do.  How  very  young  she 
looks  —  how  very  young  !  " 

She  made  one  little  step  toward  them,  smiling, 
with  outstretched  hand.  There  was  a  lull  in  the 
conversation,  and  Christopher  knew  that  every 
one  was  looking  at  him.  It  made  him  angry,  but 
when  he  took  her  hand,  something  in  her  eyes 
said,  "  Don't  mind  them  !  "  and  he  did  n't.  The 


WOULD-BE  FRIVOLITY  99 

professor  greeted  him  cordially,  Mr.  Watson 
shook  his  hand  and  looked  into  his  face  with  in 
quisitive,  smiling  eyes,  and  the  hum  of  conversa 
tion  rose  again. 

"  Who  is  the  old  gentleman  with  the  Santa 
Claus  countenance?"  asked  the  instructor  in 
English. 

"  Oh,  don't  you  know  ?  "  said  the  wife  of  the 
Professor  of  Experimental  Psychology.  "  That 's 
the  rich  old  Mr.  Watson,  who 's  always  founding 
things  and  sending  poor  young  men  through  col 
lege.  They  say  he  's  quite  a  character ;  he  goes 
down  to  the  post  office  every  Christmas  and  puts 
stamps  on  all  the  packages  that  are  mailed  with 
out  sufficient  postage,  because  he  does  n't  like  to 
think  that  people  must  go  without  their  Christ 
mas  presents." 

"  Excellent !  I  '11  drop  mine  in  without  any 
stamps  at  all  this  year !  " 

"  He  's  a  shoe  manufacturer  also,  a  competitor 
of  young  Kenyon's,  and  not  at  all  in  sympathy 
with  his  ideas.  Quite  dramatic  to  see  them  to 
gether,  is  n't  it  ?" 

"  Yes,"  murmured  the  instructor  thoughtfully ; 
"  the  old  dispensation  and  the  new." 

"Young  Kenyon  is  handsome,  is  he  not  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  curious  face.  Odd  manner  of  hesitat 
ing  and  looking  you  through  before  he  speaks. 
I  'd  like  to  see  him  win." 

The  rector  of  St.  Jude's  had  been  taken  pos 
session  of  by  Mrs.  Loring,  the  professor  had 


100          THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

moved  away  to  speak  to  other  guests,  and  Agnes, 
Christopher,  and  Mr.  Watson  were  left  standing 
together  under  the  chandelier. 

"  Ah,  young  man,  young  man,  we  're  all  talking 
about  you  ;  do  you  know  it  ?  "  said  old  Peter. 

"Mr.  Kenyon  ought  to  feel  glad  that  he  has 
given  us  something  sensible  to  talk  about,"  said 
Agnes. 

The  old  man  looked  at  her  thoughtfully,  almost 
sadly. 

"  You  vigorous  young  things,"  he  said.  "  You 
think  you  are  going  to  conquer  the  world.  We 
thought  so  once.  Well  —  well !  " 

"  This  is  a  waltz  ;  may  I  have  it  ?  "  said  Chris 
topher. 

"Yes,"  Agnes  answered,  and  smiled  over  her 
shoulder  at  old  Peter  as  she  went  away.  He 
crossed  to  the  side  of  the  room  where  Philip  stood 
against  the  wall,  by  Mrs.  Loring's  chair.  Dr. 
Chester  also  leaned  against  the  wall  watching  the 
dancers. 

"  Who  is  the  handsome  man  dancing  with  Miss 
Gillespie  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  That  is  young  Kenyon,"  Watson  answered. 

"  Ah  !     The  one  that "  — 

"  Yes ;  does  n't  look  as  if  he  were  such  a  fool, 
does  he  ?  " 

"  No ;  and  yet  —  if  you  notice  the  eye,  Mr. 
Watson,  that  is  not  the  eye  of  a  sane,  practical 
man.  There  is  fundamental  weakness  there.  Very 
sensitive  mouth —  the  face  of  a  poet." 


WOULD-BE  FRIVOLITY  101 

"  Unfortunately  he  thinks  he  was  born  to  make 
shoes.  He  would  do  the  world  a  great  deal  more 
good  by  writing  poetry.  Shoe  factories  are  in 
creasing  every  year,  but  poets  are  getting  scarce. 
There  are  no  Byrons  to-day." 

Dr.  Chester  glanced  sidewise  at  this  old  gentle 
man  who  was  so  unliterary  as  to  care  for  Byron, 
and  the  conversation  languished. 

"  Poor  old  man !  "  said  Agnes  to  Christopher. 
"  He  was  really  quite  pathetic,  was  n't  he  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  if  you  want  pathos  you  ought  to  see 
his  workmen,"  Christopher  answered. 

"  Let  us  waltz  through  the  sitting-room  ;  your 
aunt  was  wondering  a  while  ago  why  you  did  n't 
come.  She  seemed  to  have  an  idea  that  some  of 
your  men  were  waiting  round  corners  to  slay  you. 
She  is  very  confused  about  the  whole  matter,  and 
people  have  been  talking  to  her." 

"  This  eternal  talking  !  "  exclaimed  Christopher. 
"  What  good  does  it  do  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  But  it  goes  on,  like  the  winds 
and  tides  and  the  rotation  of  the  earth.  These 
rooms  are  full  of  broken  bits  of  conversation  about 
you  and  cooperation  and  shoes,  and  nobody  has 
convinced  anybody  of  anything,  and  nobody  cares. 
And  it's  a  misplacement  of  terms  anyway,  for 
you  're  not  cooperating  yet.  It  is  n't  a  matter  for 
conviction ;  it  is  only  a  pleasant  exercise  for  the 
tongue.  We  're  a  very  serene  society,  we  college 
people  who  live  in  books.  Starvation  and  cheap 
labor  get  to  be  a  matter  of  curves  and  diagrams 


102         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

with  us,  we  are  so  stolidly  impersonal  —  except  in 
personalities." 

"  You  don't  live  in  books,"  said  Christopher ; 
"  Starvation  is  not  a  curve  to  you." 

"No,  it's  an  angle.  And  that  reminds  me,  I 
.want  some  lemonade.  Tell  me  what  you  said 
about  father  in  your  speech." 

In  the  morning,  when  aunt  Ada  had  departed 
on  an  early  train,  the  professor,  searching  for 
Agnes  in  order  to  give  her  a  message  before  he 
went  to  his  classes,  found  her  in  the  parlor,  open 
ing  all  the  windows. 

"  My  dear  child  —  this  cold  December  day  ! 
What  are  you  doing?  " 

"  I  am  blowing  all  those  futile  words  out  of  the 
house.  I  am  so  afraid  some  of  them  will  get  over 
looked,  and  whisk  into  corners." 

The  professor  laughed,  and  his  daughter  came 
up  to  him  and  clasped  her  hands  around  his 
arm. 

"  Was  n't  it  a  horrid  party,  dear  ?  You  '11 
never  make  me  have  another,  will  you  ?  If  those 
are  the  legitimate  pleasures  of  youth,  decidedly  I 
want  to  put  away  childish  things.  I  was  n't  in 
tended  to  be  frivolous ;  I  was  n't  intended  not  to 
care." 

The  professor  kissed  her  and  smoothed  her  fore 
head,  as  he  said  :  — 

"  Sitting  up  late  does  not  agree  with  you,  that  is 
all.  Now  I  thought  we  had  a  most  interesting 
evening.  The  young  people  seemed  to  enjoy  the 


WOULD-BE  FRIVOLITY  103 

dancing,  and  no  one  looked  in  the  least  bored ; 
there  was  abundance  of  really  clever  conversa 
tion." 

"  To  what  purpose  ?  "  Agnes  inquired. 

Her  father  laughed  again  and  said  :  — 

"  She  is  growing  positively  utilitarian  !  " 

"  Yes,"  she  exclaimed,  "  there  was  abundance  of 
conversation,  but  I  did  not  find  it  very  clever. 
The  house  is  full  of  impertinent  echoes  ;  that  was 
why  I  opened  the  windows.  We  may  be  going  to 
lose  our  teeth  and  our  hair  in  coming  generations, 
but  of  this  I  am  certain  —  we  shall  never  lose  our 
tongues." 

"  What  particularly  displeased  you  in  the  con 
versation  ? "  the  professor  asked.  And,  as  he 
spoke,  the  general  trend  of  the  evening's  discourse 
passed  slowly  across  his  mind,  and  along  with  it  a 
vision  of  Agnes  dancing  with  Christopher.  There 
must  have  been  a  sudden  light  in  the  professor's 
eyes,  for  his  daughter  stammered  and  blushed 
when  she  tried  to  answer  his  question. 

"  Oh,  well  —  everything  !  "  she  said  pettishly. 

"  But  he  will  not  speak  to  her  while  his  affairs 
are  in  this  unsettled  condition,"  thought  the  pro 
fessor  ;  "  he  will  be  sure  of  the  experiment  first. 
I  trust  he  will." 


CHAPTER  IX 
A  SHOEMAKERS'  HOLIDAY 

JEANIE  MACDOUGAL  had  a  white  wedding.  The 
snow  began  on  Christmas  Day,  and  by  the  twenty- 
eighth,  when  the  storm  lifted  and  the  trains  ran  on 
schedule  time,  the  village  of  Kenyon  had  retired 
several  feet  below  the  surface  of  things.  To  be 
sure,  the  roads  and  by-roads  between  the  factory 
and  the  cottages  of  the  workmen  were  beaten  hard 
and  white  by  the  passing  to  and  fro  of  twenty-four 
hundred  feet  four  times  a  day,  but  the  avenue  be 
tween  the  elms  had  to  be  ploughed  out  to  bring 
Agnes  and  her  father  from  the  station,  and  there 
was  a  snowdrift  on  the  front  piazza  higher  than  a 
man's  head.  Icicles  four  and  five  feet  long  hung 
in  a  fringe  all  around  the  eaves  of  the  great  square 
house,  and  draped  the  cupola  with  frost  devices. 
The  glen  and  the  pool  and  the  waterfall  had  gone 
to  spend  the  winter  at  the  North  Pole ;  at  least, 
that  was  what  Christopher  said  when  Agnes  asked 
him  to  take  her  to  see  them.  But  the  village  was 
not  asleep  under  its  white  coverlet.  Fingers  had 
never  been  so  busy  in  Kenyon,  —  no,  not  for  all 
the  factory  with  its  ten  hours  a  day,  as  they  were 
that  Christmas  week ;  because  James's  son,  as  the 


A  SHOEMAKERS'  HOLIDAY  105 

workers  called  Christopher,  was  going  to  give  a 
"  blow  out  "  at  the  Homestead  on  Jiuamie  Casey's 
wedding  night,  and  every  woman  in  the  stitching- 
room  was  making  a  new  dress.  If  the  men  did 
not  use  their  fingers  in  honor  of  the  occasion, 
they  used  their  brains,  and  the  brains  were  in 
greater  need  of  the  exercise. 

The  twenty-ninth  was  a  Saturday,  and,  at  the 
request  of  the  men,  a  half-holiday  to  celebrate  the 
new  era  which  was  about  to  begin.  Everybody 
said  it  was  like  Jimmie's  luck,  —  "  to  get  the  pret 
tiest  girl  in  Kenyon  shops  for  a  wife,  and  a  half- 
holiday,  and  a  party,  and  the  next  day  Sunday." 

Jeanie  and  Jimmie  were  married  in  the  little 
white  Congregational  meeting-house,  that  being 
the  nearest  approach  to  Scotch  Presbyterianism 
that  the  town  afforded  —  and  Jimmie  being  a  bad 
Catholic.  The  white  meeting-house  had  a  very 
sloping  roof  and  a  front  square  tower  surmounted 
by  a  pyramidal  steeple  and  four  small  longitudinal 
sections  of  pyramid,  set  at  the  four  corners  of  the 
tower's  roof.  All  the  bad  Catholics  and  the  good 
Congregationalists  and  Baptists  and  Methodists 
and  Episcopalians  went  to  the  ceremony,  and  all 
the  good  Catholics  stayed  outside  the  meeting-house 
and  stared  in  decorous  silence  as  the  bridal  party 
went  up  the  holly  strewn  path  to  the  door. 

Christopher  and  his  guests  had  seats  immedi 
ately  behind  the  bride's  family,  and  were  even 
more  interesting  than  the  bride,  in  the  eyes  of  the 
congregation.  A  large  marriage  bell  of  white 


106          THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

flowers,  with  a  white  satin  bow  —  presumably  a 
true  lover's  knot  —  tied  to  its  clapper,  hung  above 
the  space  at  the  end  of  the  central  aisle,  where 
Jimmie  and  Jeanie  were  to  stand,  in  front  of  the 
platform  and  the  pulpit.  On  one  end  of  the  white 
satin  ribbon  there  was  written  in  silver  letters  : 

"A  TOKEN   OF   APPRECIATION." 

and  on  the  other  end  : 

"FROM  THE  CUTTERS." 

From  the  top  of  the  small  reading-desk,  popu 
larly  known  as  the  pulpit,  a  horn  of  plenty,  fash 
ioned  in  white  roses,  poured  a  motionless  cascade 
of  pink  roses  down  the  front  of  the  desk  even  to 
the  edge  of  the  platform.  To  the  tip  of  this  horn 
was  tied  a  broad  blue  satin  ribbon,  one  end  of 
which  fell  intentionally  over  the  right  side  of  the 
desk,  the  other  intentionally  over  the  left.  On  the 
left  end  was  written  in  gold  letters : 

"FOR  J.  AND  j." 
on  the  right : 

"WITH  THE  STITCHERS'  BEST  WISHES." 

Christopher  had  sent  down  two  great  hampers 
of  flowers  from  the  Homestead  greenhouse,  and  on 
the  end  of  each  pew,  standing  up  very  straight 
and  stiff,  and  tied  very  tight,  was  a  variegated 
nosegay.  A  friend  of  Jeanie's  who  had  taken 
music  lessons  was  to  play  the  wedding  march,  and 
during  the  quarter  of  an  hour  which  preceded  the 


A  SHOEMAKERS'  HOLIDAY  107 

arrival  of  the  bridal  party  she  leaned  over  the 
gallery,  backwards  from  the  organ  bench,  every 
two  minutes,  at  the  risk  of  her  life,  and  whispered 
very  loudly:  — 

"  Have  they  come  ?  " 

Whereupon  the  usher  who  happened  to  be  at 
that  end  of  the  aisle,  replied  :  — 

"  Nup,"  or  "  Naw." 

One  of  them  said  once :  — 

"Yes,  they  have,"  and  followed  it  by  a  "Nit!  " 
which  had  to  be  very  audible  because  the  organist 
was  pulling  out  the  stops. 

When  the  bride  and  groom  did  arrive,  the  noise 
of  their  sleigh  bells  could  be  heard  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  away,  and  this  so  confused  the  organist  that 
she  began  to  play  too  soon,  and  she  finished  the 
march  when  the  procession  was  only  halfway  up 
the  aisle.  Then,  because  it  did  not  occur  to  her  to 
begin  again,  she  stopped  ;  and  Jimmie  had  on  new 
boots,  the  best  that  Kenyon  shops  afforded,  —  a 
winter  variety  with  a  squeak.  Meanwhile,  all  the 
good  Catholics  who  were  not  engaged  in  tying  mis 
tletoe  over  the  storm  door  of  the  meeting-house, 
or  in  scattering  rice  among  the  robes  in  the  sleigh, 
were  digging  their  toes  against  the  foundations  of 
the  building  and  flattening  their  faces  against  its 
leaded  window  panes.  But  after  this  everybody 
was  very  still,  and  only  the  minister  and  Jimmie 
and  Jeanie  spoke. 

Jimmie  kissed  Jeanie  immediately  after  the 
ceremony.  Every  one  heard  him  do  it.  But  it  was 


108         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

Christopher  who  first  noticed  the  mistletoe  over 
the  storm  door,  and  even  the  good  Catholics  broke 
their  polite  silence  and  cheered  when  he  kissed 
the  bride. 

At  six  o'clock  the  road  from  Kenyon  village  to 
the  Homestead  was  alive  with  a  trudging  throng 
of  shoemakers.  They  did  not  arrive  at  Christo 
pher's  reception  in  carriages,  neither  did  they  ar 
rive  at  nine  because  they  were  invited  for  seven, 
rather  they  came  at  half-past  six.  They  did  not 
carry  lanterns,  because  the  moon  and  the  snow  were 
trying  to  outshine  each  other. 

"  Was  n't  Jeanie  just  grand,  though !  "  said  the 
organist  to  another  stitcher ;  "  and  did  you  know, 
auntie  Kenyon  give  her  the  veil,  for  a  present  ?  " 

"  I  '11  bet  you  there  ain't  any  girl  ever  was  mar 
ried  in  a  sweeter  pair  of  slippers  than  her.  Sam 
told  me  they  gilded  the  heels  before  they  sent  'em 
home,  and  I  made  them  kid  rosettes  myself ;  they 
was  n't  easy." 

"  And  did  you  hear  Jimmie's  shoes  squeak  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  I  like  to  died  I  wanted  to  laugh  so 
bad,  and  ma  kept  a-pokin'  me  to  behave  myself." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Morse,  this  here 's  the  beginning 
of  the  new  day  for  shoe  workers,  so  some  of  them 
thinks,"  said  a  cutter,  falling  into  step  beside  the 
slow  old  man. 

"  The  new  day,  yes,  the  new  day,"  repeated 
Morse. 

"  When  you  and  me  and  all  of  us  is  goin'  to 
have  just  as  much,  gradual,  in  proportion  to  our 


A  SHOEMAKERS'  HOLIDAY  109 

time,  as  he  does.  Well  —  when  he  don't  make  no 
more  profit  of  his  shoe  business  than  I  do,  and 
sticks  to  it  and  stays  satisfied,  that  day  I  '11  be 
lieve.  Share  and  share  alike  —  well,  it  sounds 
pretty  to  hear  him  talk." 

"  It  don't  sound  pretty  to  hear  you  talk,"  said 
the  old  man  suddenly,  —  "  and  you  're  on  your 
way  to  eat  his  bread." 

"  Bread  !  "  the  cutter  cried ;  "  I  'm  not  lookin' 
to  eat  no  bread  this  night.  My  mouth  is  fixed  for 
cake." 

Those  who  were  near  enough  to  hear  him, 
laughed,  and  a  woman  exclaimed :  — 

"  Somebody  said  there  was  a  ring  in  the  bride 
cake." 

"  Hope  I  get  it." 

"  Aw,  you  pig !  Give  some  of  the  old  maids  a 
chance." 

And  so,  laughing  and  grumbling  and  criticising, 
they  came  to  the  avenue  between  the  elms,  and 
slowly  relapsed  into  nervous  speechlessness. 

"  They  are  beginning  to  arrive,"  said  Christo 
pher.  He  and  Agnes  and  two  or  three  young 
ladies  who  belonged  to  the  "  best  people  "  in  the 
village,  and  two  or  three  young  men,  who  looked 
upon  the  whole  affair  as  a  great  lark,  had  been 
entertaining  the  bride  and  groom  and  one  another. 
The  professor  sat  in  the  corner  of  the  library  alone 
with  a  book  on  "  The  Housing  of  the  Poor,"  and 
aunt  Ada  was  somewhere  in  the  region  of  the 
pantry. 


110          THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

The  whole  twelve  hundred  did  not  come  to  the 
reception,  for  some  were  sick,  and  some  were  in 
different,  and  some  had  to  stay  at  home  and  mind 
the  children,  but  enough  came  to  fill  the  first  floor 
and  the  enclosed  piazzas  of  the  Homestead,  and 
the  broad  second-floor  hall.  At  first  they  came  up 
in  couples  and  shook  hands  with  the  bride  and 
groom,  preserving  a  grim,  almost  a  fierce,  silence 
the  while.  But  soon  the  crowd  grew  too  great  for 
even  this  courtesy ;  people  jostled  each  other,  and 
smiled,  and  conversed  in  whispers.  Christopher 
slipped  in  and  out  among  his  guests,  shaking 
hands,  and  scattering  words  of  greeting.  Agnes 
also  smiled  upon  people,  and  shook  hands  with 
them  whether  she  knew  them  or  not.  Sometimes 
people  liked  to  be  spoken  to  in  this  informal  way, 
and  they  said  to  each  other,  "  Ain't  she  a  lovely 
little  thing !  "  but  sometimes  they  did  n't  like  it, 
and  then  they  lifted  their  eyebrows  and  noses  and 
muttered,  "  What  makes  her  so  fresh  ?  " 

One  of  the  "  best  people  "  sang  a  classic  lullaby 
and  a  fervid  Creole  love  song,  and  a  band  in  the 
upper  front  hall  played  "  Annie  Rooney,"  and  the 
Drinking  Song  from  "  Faust,"  and  "  Yankee 
Doodle,"  and  a  great  many  other  airs  that  every 
body  had  heard  before.  Refreshments  were  cir 
culated  early,  and  something  happened  then  that 
broke  through  the  formal  reserve  of  the  occasion, 
and  set  everybody  laughing  and  talking  with  his 
neighbor,  —  all  the  ice  cream  was  boots  and  shoes 
and  slippers. 


A  SHOEMAKERS'  HOLIDAY  111 

There  were  green  ice-cream  shoes,  buttoned  with 
silver  bonbons,  and  yellow  ice-cream  shoes  laced 
with  spun  sugar,  and  chocolate  ice-cream  top 
boots  with  strawberry  ice-cream  tops ;  there  were 
lemon  sherbet  slippers,  and  raspberry  sherbet 
Oxford  ties. 

"  Will  you  look  at  the  vamp  on  her,  Tom !  " 
some  one  cried.  And  "  Minnie,  mine  's  slippers, 
look,  look !  "  And  "  I  've  been  eatin'  the  shoes  I 
made  all  my  life,  but  they  none  of  'em  tasted  like 
this  !  "  And  "  Say,  Mamie,  is  the  green  kind  to 
eat  ?  Ain't  you  afraid  of  the  buttons  ?  " 

"  You  're  a  genius  !  "  said  Christopher  to  Agnes, 
for  it  was  she  who  had  suggested  this  device  to 
aunt  Ada ;  "  Now  the  old  ones  can  go  home,  and 
we  can  have  a  Virginia  reel  in  every  room,  and 
liven  things  up  a  bit.  You  may  not  believe  it,  but 
it  is  only  nine  o'clock.  It  will  all  be  over  in  an 
hour." 

There  were  five  reels  downstairs  and  one  up 
stairs.  Christopher  and  Agnes  and  Jimmie  and 
Jeanie  led  the  one  in  the  parlor,  and  the  "  best 
people  "  were  scattered  through  the  other  rooms 
to  act  as  interpreters  and  guides. 

"  If  we  done  this  often  we  'd  keep  Kenyon  shops 
busy  fillin'  our  orders  for  shoes,"  said  a  laster, 
dancing  a  vigorous  clog  before  his  partner. 

"  Look  at  old  Ma  Flannigan ;  she 's  gettin' 
worked  up !  " 

The  Irish  matron  in  question  was  "  takin'  steps  " 
on  the  hard-wood  floor. 


112         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

"  This  here  's  a  sight  betther  than  a  barrn  door, 
Master  Chrissie,"  she  cried,  with  a  wink. 

And  Christopher  called,  "  Go  ahead !  Faster, 
Music!" 

Mrs.  Flannigan,  being  further  entreated  by  cries 
of,  "  Let  'er  go,  GaUagher  !  "  "  Tune  up,  ma !  " 
"  Now  's  yer  chance !  "  settled  her  face  into  an 
expression  of  anxious,  tense  gravity,  and  began  an 
Irish  jig.  The  men  kept  time  with  hands  and 
feet,  and  the  women,  especially  the  young  Ameri 
can  women,  laughed  until  the  tears  ran  down  their 
cheeks.  The  professor  came  and  looked  gravely 
on,  standing  behind  two  of  the  women,  and  peer 
ing  urbanely  over  their  shoulders.  Aunt  Ada, 
aghast  at  such  revelry,  touched  her  nephew  and 
said  :  — 

"  Mercy !     Is  the  woman  drunk  ?  " 

Fortunately  the  guests  were  too  much  absorbed 
in  the  dance  to  hear  her. 

In  an  hour  it  was  all  over ;  even  the  "  best 
people  "  had  gone,  after  thanking  Christopher  for 
a  delightful  evening,  as  if  they  thought  he  had 
invited  them  to  look  on  at  a  show. 

"  Will  you  come  up  in  the  cupola  ?  "  Christo 
pher  asked  Agnes.  "  The  moon  is  very  fine,  and 
you  can  see  them  going  home  a  long  way  down 
the  road.  You'd  better  take  a  shawl  or  some 
thing,  though  I  don't  believe  it 's  cold  up  there." 

"  Ah,  why  have  n't  I  been  up  here  before  ? " 
Agnes  cried,  as  she  came  out  into  the  little  room 
on  the  roof.  It  was  square,  like  the  rest  of  the 


A  SHOEMAKERS'  HOLIDAY  113 

house,  with  windows  on  every  side,  and  the  moon 
light  came  through  every  window,  or  seemed  to. 
Agnes  went  to  one  and  looked  out. 

In  the  west  there  was  a  low  line  of  hills,  which 
rounded  one  beyond  the  other  in  ridges  and  bil 
lows,  white  and  luminous  against  the  brighter, 
moon-flooded  sky ;  and  close  below  the  house  the 
glen  nestled,  somewhere  under  a  great  stretch  of 
wintry,  ice-crusted  treetops.  Between  these  and 
the  white  sea  of  hills  lay  the  village,  with  four 
long  three-story  buildings  at  its  upper  end,  stuck 
full  of  silver  eyes  —  the  Kenyon  shops,  with  their 
windows  glinting  in  the  moonlight.  The  sleigh 
bells  of  the  "  best  people  "  still  sounded,  far,  far 
away  on  the  snow ;  and  along  the  white  road 
winding  from  the  Homestead  past  solitary  farms, 
and  clustered  barns,  and  groves  of  leafless  birch, 
straggled  a  dark  line,  that  moved  onward  and 
broke  away  at  both  ends  into  moving  dots  — 
Christopher's  people  going  home,  to  those  rows 
and  rows  of  plain,  bare  wooden  houses  lying  in 
the  shadow  of  Kenyon  shops.  The  sky  was  all 
a-prick  with  frosty  stars  shining  in  despite  of  the 
moon ;  the  sound  of  the  sleigh  bells  had  died 
away,  but  the  shoemakers  were  singing  "Down 
went  McGinty  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea  "  —  very 
faint  and  far,  and  the  clock  in  the  white  meeting 
house  struck  the  hour. 

"  Where  am  I  leading  them  ?  If  I  but  knew ; 
oh,  if  I  but  knew  !  " 

The  despondency  in  his  voice  was  strange   to 


114         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

Agnes,  and  she  turned  to  where  he  stood,  behind 
her,  with  the  moonlight  full  upon  him,  his  dark 
eyes  sadly  following  the  zigzag  line  far  off  on  the 
snowy  road. 

"  Sometimes  I  almost  stop,"  he  said ;  "  some 
times  I  lift  my  fist  to  smash  it  all.  Sometimes  I 
do  not  care  to  do  anything  but  lie  down  under  the 
load  of  it  and  let  the  waters  go  over  me,  and  never 
think,  and  never  strive  again.  When  one  is  inade 
quate  to  life  the  reasons  for  continuing  to  live  lose 
their  meaning." 

"  Oh,  do  not  say  such  things  !  "  she  cried ;  "  I 
think  of  you  always  with  your  head  lifted  high 
and  the  light  of  unconquerable  hope  in  your  eyes, 
looking  forever  on  victory." 

"  Not  forever.     I  pay  my  price." 

"  I  did  n't  know  you  could  undertake  anything 
you  thought  might  fail." 

"  I  could  n't.  But  I  never  agreed  to  undertake 
myself." 

"  Ah  !  if  it 's  only  yourself  you  're  afraid  of  — 
why !  I  'm  not  afraid  !  "  Her  face  was  uplifted, 
and  she  smiled  strength  upon  him. 

"  Are  n't  you  ?  "  he  said  softly.  "  Why  do  you 
believe  in  me  ?  Why  do  you  think  it  worth  while  to 
tempt  me  back  to  belief  in  myself  ?  They  don't 
believe  in  me.  They  are  afraid  or  contemptuous 
or  sullen." 

"  Jimmie  Casey  believes  in  you." 

"  I  've  been  good  to  Jimmie." 

"  And  you  're  going  to  be  good  to  the  others ; 


A  SHOEMAKERS'  HOLIDAY  115 

so  good  !  Ah,  think  how  fortunate  you  are  !  You 
can  act ;  you  can  change  the  world's  ways  that  you 
do  not  like,  that  you  do  not  believe  in.  And  the 
rest  of  us  may  only  watch  and  think  and  talk. 
You  are  the  only  man  I  know  who  is  doing  things  ; 
the  rest  of  us  are  only  sending  out  propaganda 
that  goes  into  the  world's  waste  basket.  I  'd  give 
all  niy  life  to  be  a  failure,  if  that  could  make  things 
straight." 

"  But  if  I  am  a  failure  the  plan  will  fail." 

"  Will  it  ?     Are  you  sure  ?  " 

He  had  been  looking  out  over  her  head  at  the 
distant  shops  with  their  silver  argus  eyes  ;  now  he 
looked  at  her  and  smiled  slowly  and  there  came  into 
his  eyes  a  tenderness  that  made  her  heart  beat 
quicker  as  she  tried  to  keep  her  face  turned  up  to 
his. 

"This  is  not  your  real  self  that  fears  to  act. 
You  told  me  once  you  would  rather  hurt  people  by 
doing  things  than  by  leaving  them  undone." 

"  I  would ! "  he  answered ;  "  I  am  very  incon 
sistent." 

"No,  not  inconsistent,  only  disheartened.  But 
you  are  going  straight  on  with  it,  believing  in  it, 
and  in  yourself." 

He  laughed  softly,  and  reached  out  both  his 
arms  to  her,  saying :  — 

"Ami?  How  are  you  grown  so  wise,  so  small  ?  " 
And  then  he  took  her  hands  and  said  :  — 

"  You  must  not  say  such  things  to  me,  because 
I  love  you.  You  must  not  speak  to  me  at  all ;  you 


116         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

must  not  see  me  when  I  come  to  town,  for  when 
you  do  I  want  to  tell  you  that  I  love  you.  I  want  to 
beg  you  to  trust  your  life  to  me  —  that  I  may  break 
it,  as  perhaps  I  soon  shall  break  the  lives  of  Jim- 
mie  Casey  and  his  wife,  and  all  those  other  men 
and  women  down  there  in  the  little  houses.  And  I 
must  not.  Other  men,  young  like  me,  look  for 
ward  to  growing  richer  as  they  grow  older.  But 
I  cannot  look  forward  to  that  —  I  must  grow 
poorer  and  poorer  ;  I  must !  I  would  not  have  it 
otherwise."  She  stood  before  him  with  her  hands 
in  his  and  her  head  bent.  "  I  would  not  have  it 
otherwise.  But  I  love  you.  And  the  plan  is  all 
yours  —  all  yours,  who  said  to  me,  '  You  would  not 
do  it  without  giving  them  a  chance  to  speak  ; '  and 
the  glory  is  all  yours,  for  when  I  think  of  you  and 
your  belief  in  me,  hard  places  smooth  away,  and 
anything  seems  possible.  All  this  is  yours." 

"  And  the  failure,  too,  shall  be  mine,  all  mine," 
she  said,  looking  up,  her  small  white  face  unsmil 
ing,  her  eyes  wide  upon  his. 

He  drew  her  straight  into  his  arms  and  held  her 
there  with  her  face  looking  up  to  him  while  he 
spoke  to  her :  — 

"  Oh,  my  beloved,  see  how  weak  I  am,  to  tell  you 
this  I  never  meant  to  tell.  Forget  it !  Blot  it  out ! 
—  and  me !  " 

She  moved  her  head  against  his  breast,  a  little 
gesture  of  refusal,  that  was  all. 

"  I  have  no  more  right  to  take  a  wife  than  Philip 


A  SHOEMAKERS'  HOLIDAY  117 

Starr  has.  I  have  espoused  the  cause  of  the  poor. 
I  am  one  of  them." 

"  And  I,"  she  said. 

They  forgot  the  poor  after  this. 

The  dark  line  and  the  moving  dots  quite  disap 
peared  from  the  road.  The  singing  and  the  sleigh- 
bells  died  away.  The  clock  in  the  meeting-house 
struck  the  hour. 

"  It  is  very  late :  we  must  go  down,"  Agnes 
said. 


CHAPTER  X 
PATEBNALISM 

THE  professor  accepted  the  situation  with  the 
philosophic  sweetness  and  good  breeding  which  he 
invariably  displayed  in  all  conventional  emergen 
cies. 

"  But  you  don't  seem  a  bit  surprised  ! "  Agnes 
protested.  And  he  only  smiled  thoughtfully  and 
stroked  her  hair.  The  smile  gave  her  a  lump  in 
her  throat,  so  that  she  was  silent  for  some  time  be 
fore  she  said :  — 

"I  —  I — won't  repeat  that  old  thing  they  always 
say  in  books,  about  your  not  losing  your  daughter 
and  gaining  a  son ;  but  —  it 's  true,  father.  You 
know  it  is,  don't  you  ?  " 

He  smiled  again  and  kissed  her. 

"  And  just  think  how  badly  you  would  have  felt 
if  all  the  other  professors'  daughters  had  gone  and 
gotten  married,  and  I  had  been  left  on  your  hands, 
an  old  maid  I  Now,  would  n't  you,  father  ?  " 

"  I  should  never  have  been  able  to  hold  up  my 
head  again  if  such  a  calamity  had  overtaken  me, 
I  am  quite  sure,"  he  replied,  and  they  laughed 
tearfully  together. 

**  I  heard  the  gate  click,"  said  he. 


PATERNALISM  119 

Agnes  blushed,  and  flitted  hurriedly  to  the 
door. 

"  And  remember,  father  dear,  it  was  my  fault ; 
I  told  him  to  do  it  just  that  way  —  and  "  — 

"  My  dear,  I  can  quite  believe  you ;  one  has  only 
to  look  at  you  to  know  that  it  has  all  been  your 
fault  from  the  beginning.  I  don't  blame  him  in 
the  least." 

She  laughed  nervously,  and  whisked  out  of  the 
room. 

Christopher  was  standing  in  the  hall. 

"  Oh,  perhaps  we  would  better  forget  all  about 
it !  "  she  cried.  "  It  hurts  him  so,  and  he  is  an 
angel.  Don't  ask  him !  Go  away !  " 

Christopher  took  her  hands  and  looked  at  her, 
and  she  smiled  in  mockery  of  herself,  while  the 
tears  ran  down  her  cheeks. 

"  I  would  rather  you  did  it  with  a  carving  knife," 
she  said ;  "  that  is  a  gentle  weapon." 

Upstairs  she  turned  upon  herself  and  faced  the 
situation.' 

"  There 's  no  use  trying  to  make  excuses ;  there 
is  n't  an  atom  of  altruistic  motive  in  my  conduct. 
Father  is  not  going  to  be  benefited,  or  educated, 
or  made  happier  by  it  one  bit.  I  'm  doing  it  just 
plain  because  I  want  to  ;  and  yet  —  if  I  don't  do 
it  I  shall  be  morbid.  The  natural  relation  be 
tween  parents  and  children  is  hideous !  I  don't 
see  why  we  were  made  this  way.  And  father  is 
going  to  miss  me  terribly,  even  though  I  see  him 
every  few  days.  I  am  a  pig.  Oh,  dear !  I  hope 


120         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

he  is  not  being  very  hard  on  Christopher.  When 
you  act  you  can't  be  as  cautious  as  when  you 
theorize." 

Christopher  was  endeavoring  to  explain  this  fact 
to  the  professor  in  halting  language,  and  the  pro 
fessor  was  not  disposed  to  be  very  hard  on  him. 
This  young  man  who  had  so  irrevocably  committed 
himself  to  champion  a  principle  could  not  fail  to 
become  a  bright  figure  in  the  eyes  of  those  men 
who  existed  in  the  community  by  virtue  of  educat 
ing  principles  into  it ;  and  after  the  first  shock 
of  unpleasant  surprise,  the  first  inevitable  recoil 
from  the  conventional,  that  gentle  academic  world 
in  which  the  professor  moved  began  to  rejoice  tem 
perately  in  Christopher.  Had  the  professor  been 
a  business  man  he  could  not  have  adjusted  himself 
so  quickly  to  the  new  plan  ;  but  three  months  after 
Christopher's  speech  in  Kenyon  the  heavens  had 
not  fallen,  the  Kenyon  shops  were  still  apparently 
as  much  trusted  by  the  commercial  world  as  for 
merly  under  the  old  system,  and  —  the  newspapers 
had  dropped  the  subject.  Despite  his  conscien 
tious  and  scholarly  striving  after  fair  mindedness, 
the  professor  instinctively  trusted  the  man  of  in 
tellectual  tradition  rather  than  the  workingman. 
This  was  natural.  And  the  workingman  he  dis 
trusted.  The  professor  himself  never  guessed  this  ; 
he  had  quite  a  different  idea  of  his  own  mental 
attitude.  Christopher,  the  benefactor  of  the  Ken 
yon  shoemakers,  a  dominating  intellectual  force, 
doing  good  in  the  face  of  public  opinion,  the  pro- 


PATERNALISM  121 

fessor  could  understand  and  respect ;  but  Chris 
topher  identified  with  his  men,  as  he  meant  some 
day  to  be,  a  co-worker  with  them,  their  mouth 
piece  —  not  all  the  generalities  in  that  famous 
speech  had  been  able  to  press  in  this  idea  upon 
the  professor's  mind.  When  it  should  penetrate, 
as  one  day  it  must,  the  professor  would  look  else 
where  for  authority.  Peter  Watson  was  illiterate 
and  a  bore,  but  he  was  a  dominating  force,  not  a 
mouthpiece. 

To-day  the  professor's  whole  heart  was  with 
Christopher,  this  clean,  high-souled  young  man 
who  had  given  his  life  to  the  active  demonstrating 
of  a  principle,  who  loved  Agnes,  and  who  was 
saying  now :  — 

"  I  do  not  indulge  in  hyperbole  when  I  tell  you 
that  you  and  she  have  been  the  moving  spirits  in 
my  life.  Years  ago,  when  I  was  only  a  crude, 
wide-minded,  wool-gathering  boy,  you  set  me  at 
definite  thinking,  and  last  summer  she  came,  and 
spurred  me  on  to  action.  And  I  am  selfish ;  I 
want  her  in  my  life,  and  you.  I  did  not  mean  to 
tell  her  so,  but  —  I  have.  And  for  the  new  plan, 
I  have  weighed  it  carefully  from  a  business  point 
of  view,  and  the  chances  are  not  all  for  failure. 
Believe  me,  I  should  not  have  undertaken  this 
thing  if  I  had  felt  that  it  could  only  end  in  wreck 
—  for  the  men's  sake,  if  not  for  my  own.  And 
even  if  it  should  fail,  I  am  not  as  bad  off  as  the 
men  ; "  he  smiled  jokingly.  "  I  can  always  teach 
political  economy.  You  know  you  wanted  me  to 


122         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

stick  to  my  book.  I  shall  never  be  a  rich  son-in- 
law  ;  that  is,  after  a  year  or  two  I  sha'n't  be  ;  but 
do  you  care  for  that  ?  Your  words  have  not  led 
me  to  think  that  you  do.  And  if  it  should  suc 
ceed  !  Professor  —  give  me  your  daughter  now, 
that  I  may  say  to  all  the  world  when  that  time 
comes,  '  Hers  is  the  glory  —  and  her  father  taught 
us  how  to  live.'  " 

"  Boy,  why  do  you  plead  so  ?  Why  do  you  fear  ? 
I  was  young  once.  They  said  I  was  imprudent  to 
hamper  myself  so  early  with  a  wife  ;  but  I  should 
not  be  where  I  am  to-day  if  she  had  not  fired  my 
spirit  and  flashed  me  into  life.  Agnes  has  her 
mother's  soul.  Go,  work  together,  help  each  other. 
After  all,  it  is  not  what  you  do  that  counts,  per 
haps  ;  it  is  the  reason  why  you  do  it.  I  know  that 
I  shall  always  trust  your  *  reason  why,'  even  though 
I  may  disapprove  of  your  method." 

"Did  he  say  that  really?"  Agnes  cried  when 
she  and  Christopher  were  alone  together  in  the 
library  later.  "  I  '11  confide  to  you  that  I  've  always 
suspected  father  of  being  just  as  impulsive  as  the 
rest  of  us,  and  that 's  why  he  lays  so  much  stress 
on  caution  and  justice,  because  he 's  afraid  of  him 
self.  The  dear  love !  We  must  show  him  how 
very  wise  and  judicial  we  can  be.  And  we  must 
have  him  know  the  working  people  and  love  them 
with  us.  And  we  must  not  let  him  be  lonely.  Oh, 
dear !  I  don't  like  to  think  about  it." 


BOOK  II 

THE  DRAMA 

"  In  ordinary  competitive  trade,  the  man  who  refuses  to  play 
the  game  according  to  the  rules,  must  simply  retire  and  let  an 
other  take  his  place." 

"  The  honest  example  of  a  morally  enlightened  individual  has 
not  that  power  of  permeating  industry  which  is  required  by  the 
gospel  of  'moralizing  the  employer.'" 

John  Buskin,  Social  Reformer,  J.  A.  HOBSON. 


CHAPTER  I 
CHIEFLY  LEGENDARY 

THE  brook  in  the  glen  raced  down  the  rocks, 
and  the  sunbeams  flashed  through  the  water,  as  on 
that  other  day  when  Agnes  crossed  the  stepping- 
stones  ;  but  this  afternoon  the  pool  at  the  bottom 
of  the  glen  was  clear  and  full  of  light  like  a  deep 
topaz.  All  the  woods  were  red  and  yellow  and 
brown ;  a  leaf  dropped  now  and  then.  There 
would  be  no  more  summer  days  after  this  one. 
October  was  looking  back  with  a  sigh.  Agnes  sat 
by  the  brookside,  dabbling  one  hand  in  the  water, 
smiling,  and  looking  afar  off.  There  was  a  little 
heap  of  garments  behind  her,  under  a  tree,  and  a 
pair  of  small  brown  socks  and  ankle  ties  lay  on  a 
flat  rock  in  midstream.  She  held  a  child's  shirt 
and  a  workbox  in  her  lap,  but  she  continued  to 
sit  among  her  smiling  thoughts,  doing  nothing, 
until  a  bird  note,  more  sudden,  shriller  than  the 
rest,  apprised  her  that  some  other  sound  to  which 
her  ear  was  tuned  had  ceased. 

"  Where  are  you,  Christopher  ?  "  she  called. 

«  Yes !  " 

There  was  a  rustle,  a  sound  of  labored  breath 
ing,  and  then  there  came  out  of  the  underbrush  on 


126         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

the  other  side  of  the  brook  a  boy  of  nine  years, 
naked,  and  bearing  a  large  stone  on  his  shoulder. 

"  You  must  not  go  too  far  away,"  Agnes  said, 
"  for  when  I  don't  see  you  I  think  you  have  fallen 
into  the  pool,  and  that  gives  me  a  pang."  She 
smiled  playfully,  and  he  laughed,  making  a  delight 
ful  sound  quite  like  the  brook. 

"I  was  hunting  for  a  stone,"  he  explained; 
"  there  is  a  bigger  one  a  little  way  back,  but  I 
couldn't  lift  it."  He  began  to  come  across  the 
brook  as  he  spoke,  still  bearing  the  stone  on  his 
shoulder. 

He  had  his  mother's  hair  and  his  father's  eyes, 
this  boy,  and  Agnes  used  to  say  he  had  caught  his 
uncle  Philip's  smile.  She  had  brought  him  up 
chiefly  out  of  doors  and  out  of  clothes,  having  a 
theory  that  light  and  air  were  good  for  little 
bodies. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  the  stone  ?  " 
she  asked. 

"  I  am  going  to  bear  it  for  a  burden.  Don't 
you  know  about  Christopher  ?  " 

"  I  know  about  two  Christophers,  a  little  one  and 
a  big  one ;  which  ?  " 

"  Oh,  not  us !  "  he  cried  scornfully.  "  This  is  a 
very  big  one,  the  biggest  of  all  —  St.  Christopher. 
Uncle  Philip  told  me  all  about  him  last  night." 

"Tell  me!" 

"  Well,  his  name  was  n't  —  I  think  if  I  'm  going 
to  talk  I  'd  better  put  down  this  stone.  There !  " 

He  toppled  his  burden  into  the  brook  with  a 


CHIEFLY  LEGENDARY  127 

splash,  heaved  a  tremendous  sigh,  and  clambered 
up  on  the  flat  rock  beside  his  shoes  and  socks. 

"  His  name  was  n't  Christopher  in  the  first 
place  ;  it  was  Offero,  and  he  was  a  giant.  —  Mo 
ther,  you  're  not  listening ;  you  're  looking  at  some 
thing  in  your  mind." 

"  No,  I  am  looking  at  you." 

He  leaned  backward  on  one  hand  and  used  the 
other  for  purposes  of  expression  ;  the  sunlight  fell 
rosily  on  him,  the  breeze  lifted  his  hair ;  he  dan 
gled  one  leg  down  the  side  of  the  rock,  and  the 
water  curled  over  his  toes. 

"  Well,  he  was  a  giant,  so  tall  that  he  used  a 
pine-tree  for  a  staff,  —  a  tall  southern  pine,  uncle 
Philip  says  he  guesses,  —  the  kind  I  've  never 
seen  ;  and  he  was  the  —  the  —  strongest  man  then 
extant." 

Observing  a  change  in  his  mother's  face,  the 
boy  added  hastily  :  — 

"  It  was  something  like  that  that  he  said,  any 
way,  and  I  've  heard  him  use  that  word  to  mean 
the  same  sort  of  thing." 

Agnes  composed  her  face  and  nodded. 

"  He  was  also  very  proud  to  be  strong,  and  he 
said  he  must  only  serve  the  greatest  ruler,  because 
he  was  the  strongest  man.  I  asked  uncle  Philip 
why  he  didn't  be  a  ruler  himself  if  he  was  so 
strong,  but  uncle  Philip  said  some  people  were 
born  with  —  the  —  in — stinct  —  for  —  service  — 
like  father ;  he  said  father  could  be  a  ruler  too, 
if  he  wanted  to.  If  father  was  a  king  I  'd  be  a 


128          THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

prince  !  "  He  sat  up  at  the  thought  and  clasped 
his  hands. 

"  You  would  like  to  be  a  prince  ?  "  Agnes  asked, 
watching  him. 

It  was  evidently  a  tempting  prospect,  for  he 
did  not  answer  at  once  ;  then  he  said  slowly,  — 

"  Could  I  be  the  son  of  a  king,  and  serve  too  ?  " 

"Ask  uncle  Philip." 

"  I  will.  But  this  giant  did  n't  seem  to  know 
he  could  be  anything  except  a  servant,  and  he 
went  to  the  court  of  the  greatest  king  he  knew, 
and  served  him  a  long  time.  But  one  day  some 
body  said  something  about  the  devil,  and  the  king 
looked  scared,  and  the  giant  inquired  who  was  the 
devil.  I  think  it  was  kind  of  queer  he  had  lived 
all  that  time  without  ever  hearing  of  him,  don't 
you?  Why!  I  've  heard  of  him  ever  since  I  was 
four  days  old  and  uncle  Philip  was  my  godfather, 
and  renounced  the  devil  and  all  his  works  for  me, 
and  I  yelled  when  they  put  the  water  on  my  head ; 
don't  you  remember  ?  " 

He  drew  his  foot  out  of  the  brook,  and  rested 
his  chin  on  his  knees. 

"  And  the  giant  said,  '  If  the  devil  is  somebody 
you  're  afraid  of,  I  guess  he  's  greater  than  you, 
and  I'll  go  serve  him.'  And  they  begged  and 
begged,  but  he  wouldn't  stay,  and  he  took  his 
pine-tree  staff  and  went  away.  —  Um-m-m  —  I 
made  a  piece  of  poetry  that  time.  Listen :  And 
they  begged  and  begged,  but  he  would  n't  stay, 
and  he  took  his  pine-tree  staff  and  went  away." 


CHIEFLY  LEGENDARY  129 

Agnes  expressed  her  appreciation  of  this  effort, 
and  her  son  continued  :  — 

"  By  and  by  he  met  the  devil  and  all  his  works, 
walking  along  the  road,  and  he  knew  him  right 
away  because  he  looked  different.  And  he  said, 
'  I  guess  I  'd  like  to  serve  you,  Mr.  Devil,'  and 
the  devil  said,  '  You  are  n't  the  first,  nor  yet  you 
won't  be  the  last.'  And  the  devil  was  surprised 
that  the  giant  did  n't  say,  '  How  much  '11  you  give 
me  ? '  but  that  was  n't  the  way  the  giant  did  things. 
Uncle  Philip  says  it  is  n't  the  way  father  does 
things,  either.  And  it  was  very  good  for  the 
giant,  because  when  he  wanted  to  leave  there 
was  n't  any  bargain  to  hold  him,  the  way  there 
was  with  that  German  man  and  the  other  devil, 
you  know.  He  just  threw  up  his  job,  same  as 
Sam  O'Donnell  over  in  Mr.  Watson's  shops,  and 
quit.  And  that  happened  one  day  when  they 
passed  a  crucifix  on  the  road,  and  the  devil  put 
his  tail  between  his  legs  and  said,  '  Let 's  go  round 
another  way !  '  And  the  giant  said,  '  Who  was 
this  man  on  the  cross  ? '  Then  they  said,  '  Christ,' 
—  only  they  hated  to  say  it.  And  the  giant  said, 
'  Good-by  ! '  Then  they  begged  and  they  begged, 
but  he  would  n't  stay,  and  he  took  his  pine-tree 
staff  and  went  away.  And  after  a  long  time  he 
met  a  holy  —  hermit  —  in  a  —  hut  —  by  a  river 
side.  And  he  said,  '  Do  you  know  where  Christ  is? 
I  want  to  serve  Him.'  And  the  hermit  said, '  I  serve 
Him.'  So  the  giant  asked  what  to  do.  '  You 
must  kneel  down  and  pray  without  ceasing.'  And 


130         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

the  giant  said,  *  I  have  n't  got  brains  enough  to  do 
that.  I  guess  you  '11  have  to  work  that  racket.'  " 

"  Christopher,  Christopher  !  Uncle  Philip  did 
not  say  that !  " 

"  No,  I  'm  not  doing  it  word  for  word  ;  that  is 
one  of  Tom  Painter's  ways  of  saying  things,  and  I 
thought  it  just  fitted  on  to  this.  —  Then  the  hermit 
said,  '  You  must  fast  most  every  day  in  the  week, 
and  eat  only  herbs  and  berries  ; '  and  the  giant 
doubled  up  his  right  arm,  —  so  that  the  muscle 
stood  straight  up,  like  mine,  — and  he  told  the 
hermit,  '  I  bet  you  can't  do  that ! '  and  the  hermit 
said,  No,  he  could  n't ;  and  the  giant  said,  'Neither 
could  I  if  I  fasted  most  every  day  in  the  week  and 
ate  only  herbs  and  berries.'  Then  the  hermit 
pointed  to  the  river  and  said,  '  You  go  down  there 
and  carry  everybody  across  that  asks.'  Then  he 
looked  at  him  and  said,  '  You  may  get  drowned  ; 
ain't  you  afraid  ?  '  And  the  giant  said,  *  Afraid ! 
Me  ? '  And  now  the  interesting  part  is  coming." 

Christopher  left  his  perch  on  the  rock,  and  came 
and  lay  down  on  his  stomach  beside  his  mother, 
with  his  elbows  in  her  lap. 

"  Do  you  like  this  story,  mother  ?  " 

"  Very  much  indeed !  " 

"  Well,  one  night,  when  the  rain  was  coming 
down  in  sheets  and  the  wind  was  howling  like 
mad,  and  the  river  was  swollen  to  five  times  its 
size,  there  was  a  knock  at  the  door  and  a  little 
voice  said, '  Offero,  Offero  ! '  And  the  giant  said, 
'  Oh,  rats ! '  " 


CHIEFLY  LEGENDARY  131 

"  Christopher,  what  have  I  told  you  about  say 
ing  that  word  ?  Did  you  forget  ?  " 

"  I  did  n't  say  it,  mother ;  the  giant  said  it,  and 
I  'm  quite  sure  he  would  have,  are  n't  you  ?  " 

Being  thus  appealed  to,  Agnes  refrained  from 
pressing  her  discipline  further,  and  contented  her 
self  with  suggesting  that  the  giant  need  not  say  it 
again. 

"  Mother,  did  n't  you  ever  say  slang  when  you 
were  little  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  that  is  no  reason  why  I  should  let 
you  say  it  when  you  are  little." 

Christopher  sighed,  and  shook  himself. 

"  Uncle  Philip  says  I  'm  very  like  you." 

"  And  so  you  are  ;  I  used  to  be  quite  a  naughty 
little  child  sometimes.  Now,  tell  me  the  story, 
quick !  " 

"  Well,  he  went  to  the  door  and  looked  out,  but 
he  could  n't  see  anybody,  so  he  went  back  to  bed. 
And  in  a  minute  he  heard  it  again,  c  Offero !  Of- 
fero !  take  me  over  the  river  !  '  So  he  hopped  up 
again  and  opened  the  door,  and  there  was  a  little 
bit  of  a  baby  child,  ever  so  much  littler  than  me, 
and  it  said,  '  Take  me  over  the  river ! '  I  asked 
uncle  Philip  why  he  did  n't  say  to  the  baby, 
'  You  're  too  little  to  know  your  own  mind,'  and 
make  it  come  in  out  of  the  rain  ;  but  uncle  Philip 
said  the  hermit  had  told  him  never  to  refuse  to 
take  anybody  across  that  asked  him ;  so  he  said, 
'  Oh,  well,  if  you  must ! '  And  he  picked  the  lit 
tle  boy  up  and  put  him  on  his  shoulder,  —  that 


132          THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

lovely  way,  with  your  legs  around  the  other  per 
son's  neck,  and  your  hands  in  his  hair,  —  and  he 
said,  '  Now,  hang  on  tight ! '  Then  he  took  his 
pine-tree  staff  and  —  entered  —  into  —  the  —  flood 
—  and  it  raged  just  like  the  brook  in  the  spring. 
And  the  farther  he  went,  the  heavier  that  baby 
got,  till  it  felt  like  a  regular  elephant.  And  the 
giant  said  to  himself :  '  S'pose  I  should  sink  ! ' 
And  he  thought  of  his  master  that  he  served,  and 
he  said,  '  If  he 's  the  greatest  ruler  in  the  world, 
this  is  his  time  to  help  me ; '  and  he  cried  out  very 
loud,  *  O  Master,  O  Christ,  come  and  help  me, 
else  this  heavy  little  baby  and  I  are  going  to 
drown ! '  And  for  a  minute  or  two  after  that,  he 
got  on  better,  and  then  he  began  to  lose  his  feet 
again,  and  he  cried  again,  '  O  Master,  O  Christ, 
help  your  servant  and  his  burden  out  of  the  deep 
waters !  '  That 's  like  a  psalm,  is  n't  it  ?  And 
every  time  he  'd  feel  himself  going  under,  he  'd 
call  out  like  that,  and  something  would  seem  to 
happen  to  prevent  him  drowning.  And  at  last  he 
got  to  the  other  side,  and  he  puffed  and  blowed 
tremenjous,  and  he  said,  *  If  I'd  been  carrying 
the  whole  round  world  on  my  shoulders,  I  don't 
believe  it  would  have  felt  any  heavier.'  And  the 
little  baby  said,  *  No,  it  would  n't,  for  —  you  — 
have  —  borne  —  the  —  world  —  in  —  bearing  — 
Me,  for  I  am  He  who  made  the  world,  and  I  am 
your  Master.  After  this  you  are  named  Christo 
pher,  because  that  means  the  man  that  carried 
Christ.'  And  He  began  to  grow  and  shine,  till 


CHIEFLY  LEGENDARY  133 

Christopher  could  n't  bear  to  look  at  Him,  and  he 
fell  down  at  Christ's  feet  and  hid  his  face.  And 
Christ  said,  —  now  let  me  see  if  I  can  remember 
this  in  the  very  words,"  —  the  boy  knelt  beside 
his  mother  and  stared  intently  into  her  eyes, — 
"  '  Who — soever  that  beareth  a  burden  —  yea, 
though  he  bear  the  very  world  itself  —  and  all  its 
sorrows  —  if  he  call  upon  Me  he  cannot  sink  — 
for  I  will  help  him.'  " 

Agnes  drew  her  boy  into  her  lap,  and  he  nestled 
against  her  and  put  his  arms  around  her  neck. 

"  *  If  he  call  iipon  Me,  he  cannot  sink,' "  she 
repeated,  as  if  to  herself.  Her  face  was  very  sad, 
but  the  child  could  not  see  it,  for  he  was  snuggling 
his  nose  in  her  neck,  and  she  rested  her  chin  on 
his  hair.  Presently  he  spoke  again :  — 

"  I  asked  uncle  Philip  if  that  was  n't  what 
father  was  doing  —  bearing  all  the  world  and  its 
sorrows  —  when  he  works  his  shops  different  from 
other  people,  and  he  said  yes ;  only  he  looked  so 
very  sad,  so  very,  very  sad,  it  made  me  want  to  cry. 
Mother,  what  made  uncle  Philip  look  that  way  ?  " 

"  Why  should  I  know,  darling  ? "  said  Agnes 
unsteadily. 

"  There  is  n't  any  danger,  mother  !  '  If  he  call 
upon  Me,  he  cannot  sink,  for  I  will  help  him.' 
I  'm  always  going  to  call  on  Him,  and  I  'm  going 
to  bear  all  the  world  I  possibly  can,  because  I 
cannot  sink.  Where  is  my  stone?  " 

"  Never  mind  the  stone  now,  dear  ;  it 's  time  to 
put  on  clothes." 


134         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

"  No,  not  yet !  " 

"  Yes,  this  very  minute.  Come,  let 's  do  it 
quick,  and  get  it  done." 

"No,  no,  no!  It'll  be  winter  so  soon  now." 
He  was  wriggling  out  of  her  arms. 

"A  nice  boy  you  are,  to  talk  about  bearing 
burdens,  and  you  're  not  even  willing  to  bear  the 
burden  of  a  few  clothes." 

He  stopped  wriggling,  looked  at  her,  then 
ducked  his  head  to  receive  his  undershirt. 

The  elder  Christopher  always  said  that  Agnes 
governed  her  son  by  repartee. 

Once  started,  he  tumbled  into  his  clothes  rap 
idly,  his  mother  assisting  at  a  button  here  and 
there. 

"  Barefoot  ?  "  he  asked,  while  she  tied  his  sailor- 
knot. 

"No;  uncle  Philip  will  like  to  see  the  shoes 
you  helped  to  make." 

"  He  can  see  them  better  off  than  on." 

"  He  can't  see  how  well  they  fit." 

The  boy  took  a  flying  leap  from  the  shore  to 
the  flat  rock. 

"  I  hear  them  ! "  he  cried  in  a  moment.  "  Oh, 
I  've  got  this  old  thing  in  a  knot !  Rrah  "  —  he 
glanced  at  his  mother,  laughed,  gave  the  shoe 
string  a  final  jerk,  and  was  off  over  the  stepping- 
stones,  crying,  "  Father  !  father !  " 

Agnes  closed  her  workbox  and  brushed  a  few 
twigs  from  her  gown,  as  Philip  and  the  elder 
Christopher  appeared  on  the  other  side  of  the 


CHIEFLY  LEGENDARY  135 

brook,  coming  towards  her,  but  somewhat  impeded 
by  the  antics  of  a  small  jumping  boy. 

Christopher  was  forty  years  old  at  this  time, 
and  the  dreamy  beauty  of  his  youth  was  gone, 
overlaid  by  a  certain  well-knit  aspect  of  bone  and 
muscle  and  common  sense,  which  clothes  the  man 
of  action  with  added  finiteness  in  the  prosaic  mid 
dle  years  of  life.  He  had  lost  the  lithe  freedom 
of  motion  which  characterized  his  younger  days, 
but  he  had  gained  in  its  place  a  decision  and 
promptitude  of  activity  not  to  be  despised.  The 
high,  heroic  uplift  of  his  head  had  settled  into  a 
determined,  level  outlook,  square  upon  life  and  its 
disillusions,  —  some  people  might  have  called  it  a 
dogged  look.  This  was  a  man  who  had  made  up 
his  mind  once  for  all.  The  world  had  ceased  to 
insist  that  Christopher  ought  to  be  a  poet ;  it  ac 
cepted  him  comfortably  at  his  own  valuation,  — 
as  a  shoemaker.  But  his  wife,  when  she  looked 
into  his  eyes,  found  something  there  that  the  world 
missed,  and  never  despaired  of  her  hero.  There 
was  sorrow  and  heartbreak  in  Christopher's  eyes ; 
even  his  wife  could  not  always  understand  why 
this  should  be,  but  it  helped  her  to  realize  that 
the  model  shoe  factory,  which  seemed  to  run  so 
smoothly,  was  making  something  more  than  a 
mere  business  man  of  her  husband. 

Philip,  too,  had  changed ;  there  were  gray 
streaks  in  his  wavy  red-brown  hair,  and  he  was 
more  than  ever  gaunt  and  loose- jointed.  In  his 
violet  eyes  there  was  the  look  as  of  one  who 


136         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

prayed  without  ceasing,  but  neither  his  bishop  nor 
his  parish  could  complain  that  he  did  not  work 
also. 

"  Has  Philip  ever  had  a  great  personal  sorrow  ?  " 
Agnes  asked  her  husband  once. 

And  he  answered  conclusively,  "No,  not  that  I 
have  ever  heard  of,  and  I  know  all  about  his  per 
sonal  affairs." 

"  Because  sometimes  I  have  wondered,"  she 
explained ;  "  and  yet,  I  don't  see  what  it  could  be. 
But  I  feel  as  if  his  real  life  were  very  much  hid 
den  from  us." 

"  It  may  be  because  he  is  a  priest." 

"Yes,  it  may  be,"  she  mused,  but  her  tone 
lacked  conviction. 

In  Agnes  herself  the  ten  years  had  wrought  the 
greatest  change  of  all ;  not  in  externals,  —  she 
was  still  the  same  small,  blonde,  child-like  looking 
creature,  slender,  swift.  But  the  crude  pertness 
was  gone,  the  tendency  to  interrupt,  to  contradict, 
to  set  at  naught.  Agnes  had  much  better  man 
ners  now;  she  was  not  easily  ruffled.  She  said 
that  the  mother  of  such  an  active,  mind-of-his-own 
young  person  as  little  Christopher  could  not  afford 
to  be  easily  ruffled.  Uncle  Philip  was  not  the 
only  one  who  realized  that  little  Christopher  was 
very  like  his  mother. 

"  Now  we  are  going  down  above  the  pool  and 
throw  in  pebbles,"  said  the  boy,  when  his  father 
and  his  uncle  had  crossed  the  brook.  "  Mother 
never  lets  me  go  down  there  when  just  she 's  here 


CHIEFLY  LEGENDARY  137 

because  she  says  the  allegolical  beast '11  jump  at 
me.  Is  n't  she  funny  ?  " 

He  hopped  ahead  with  uncle  Philip,  and  his 
father  and  mother  followed  to  the  place  overlook 
ing  the  pool,  where  they  had  talked  of  heroes 
years  before. 

"What  do  you  suppose  your  disciple  is  doing 
now,  my  dear  ?  "  said  Christopher,  as  he  sat  down 
on  the  bank  and  looked  around  for  a  pebble. 

"  I  have  n't  any  disciples,"  Agnes  answered,  — 
"  they  're  all  yours." 

He  laughed.  "  I  thought  you  considered  Jeanie 
Casey  your  special  pupil." 

"Oh,  Jeanie!  But  I  don't  see  what  she  can 
do  ;  she 's  married." 

Philip  and  Christopher  looked  amused,  and 
Christopher  continued :  — 

"  That  does  n't  seem  to  have  prevented  her  from 
working  in  Watson's  shoe  shops  for  the  past  six 
weeks." 

"Watson's  shoe  shops?  Christopher!  What 
do  you  mean?" 

"  Jeanie  has  turned  reformer.  I  believe  she 
wanted  it  to  be  a  surprise  to  you.  She  is  trying 
to  organize  Watson's  stitching-room,  and  incident 
ally  she  makes  his  shoes.  Jimmie  tells  me  she 
hasn't  dared  to  put  in  the  full  amount  of  her 
earnings  any  week  since  she 's  been  there.  Mrs. 
MacDougal  is  looking  out  for  the  children." 

"  Do  you  think  she  will  accomplish  anything?  " 

"  She  has  already  accomplished  something.     In 


138          THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

six  weeks,  working  from  the  inside,  she  has  done 
for  the  women  what  Casey  and  Tom  Painter, 
working  on  the  outside,  have  only  just  succeeded 
in  doing  after  six  months  for  the  men.  She  has 
got  them  to  the  point  of  wanting  to  organize." 

"  But  how  did  she  get  in  ?  I  don't  understand. 
Didn't  the  superintendent  suspect  she  belonged  to 
our  people  ?  " 

"  The  zeal  of  the  reformer,  my  dear.  And  be 
sides,  they  take  anybody  and  ask  no  questions. 
She  says  the  discipline  is  very  bad ;  there  is  thiev 
ing  going  on  all  the  time.  Philip,  here,  was  the 
one  who  found  her  out.  He  was  going  to  see 
Watson  about  some  man  who  had  cut  himself  up 
badly  with  a  defective  machine,  and  he  met  Jeanie 
in  the  entry.  And  so  the  glorious  work  goes  on." 

Christopher's  tone  was  not  one  of  glory,  how 
ever. 

"  Oh,  dear ! "  sighed  Agnes,  "  I  wish  she 
hadn't  —  quite  yet.  She  was  not  made  to  be  a 
reformer ;  it  will  break  her  heart.  What  do  you 
suppose  the  result  will  be  ?  " 

"  I  have  no  doubt  it  will  be  some  kind  of  un 
pleasant  mess  between  Watson  and  ourselves,  but 
then  "  —  lightly,  —  "  we  ought  to  be  used  to  that 
sort  of  thing  by  this  time.  I  'm  ready  to  stand 
up  for  Jeanie.  Her  ideal  is  all  right  and  she 
means  well.  None  of  the  rest  of  us  have  any  bet 
ter  excuse  for  our  mistakes." 

"  That  is  the  way  he  talks  all  the  time,  Philip," 
Agnes  said  with  playful  discontent ;  "  he  is  so 


CHIEFLY  LEGENDARY  139 

impatient.  Just  because  all  the  world  has  not 
adopted  profit  sharing  and  cooperation,  he  gets 
discouraged.  You  may  not  believe  it,  but  he 
really  does.  And  here  am  I,  who  have  a  right 
to  be  impatient,  because  I  was  born  so,  obliged  to 
insist  that  ten  years  is  n't  a  very  long  time  after 
all,  and  that  it  is  the  world's  fault,  not  his.  And 
do  you  know,  Philip,  sometimes  he  actually  talks 
as  if  it  were  not  a  success.  Not  a  success !  And 
in  '94  we  did  n't  make  any  profits  at  all,  and  yet 
we  kept  straight  on,  paying  union  wages  and 
working  eight  hours.  Is  n't  he  unreasonable  ?  To 
be  sure,  we  're  still  profit  sharing,  we  have  n't 
gone  into  real  cooperation  yet;  but  then,  things 
always  take  longer  than  you  think  they  will  — 
and,"  looking  at  her  husband  as  if  to  convince 
herself  she  agreed  to  what  she  said,  "  it  is  better 
to  be  cautious  —  better  for  the  world  and  the 
shops." 

Her  husband  smiled  at  her. 

"  What  do  you  know  about  business,"  he  said, 
"  or  about  success,  either  ?  What  is  one  profit 
sharing  factory,  or  ten,  or  twenty  —  in  a  country 
like  this  ?  It 's  the  whole  industrial  system  that 
needs  remodeling.  One  or  two  men  working  at  an 
isolated  experiment  can't  make  the  change.  It 's 
all  a  vicious  circle.  The  manufacturer  isn't  to 
blame  entirely.  He  has  to  fight  the  man  who  sup 
plies  the  raw  material." 

"  Father,  what  is  a  vicious  circle  ?  "  asked  little 
Christopher. 


140         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

"  It  is  a  figure  of  speech,  my  son ;  something 
you  will  learn  more  about  when  you  study  rhetoric 
and  political  economy." 

"  Are  times  particularly  bad  just  now?  "  Philip 
inquired. 

"  No ;  they  are  always  bad,  you  know.  I  turn 
away  applicants  for  work  day  after  day." 

Little  Christopher  was  talking  to  himself.  "  A 
vicious  cow,"  he  said ;  "  that 's  a  bad  cow ;  she  '11 
hook  you.  —  A  vicious  circle  "  — 

"  I  suppose  you  could  n't  go  on  indefinitely 
making  no  profits  ?  "  observed  Philip. 

"  That  depends  upon  what  you  call  no  profits," 
answered  Christopher.  "  If  I  were  a  true  cobper- 
ator  I  should  n't  approve  of  an  idle  surplus." 

He  had  evaded  the  question,  but  Philip  did  not 
notice  that. 

"  I  know  what !  "  shouted  the  little  boy,  scram 
bling  into  his  father's  lap  and  pulling  his  father's 
face  around  to  compel  attention.  "  The  pool 's  a 
vicious  circle  ;  because  if  you  fall  in  you  can't  get 
out." 


CHAPTER  II 
A  BACKWAKD   GLANCE 

FOE  ten  years  Christopher  had  not  ceased  to 
beat  his  head  against  a  stone  wall.  He  had  a 
hard  head.  He  did  not  convert  any  of  his  com 
petitors  ;  they  were  making  money  too  easily  their 
way,  and  they  wanted  to  make  money.  Against 
all  the  other  shoe  factories  in  the  country  Christo 
pher  beat  his  head,  and  especially  against  those 
that  made  his  grade  of  shoes,  especially  against 
Peter  Watson's  factory.  Then  the  leather  trust 
was  formed,  and  Christopher  beat  his  head  against 
that.  Industrial  depression  settled  heavily  upon 
the  world,  and  he  beat  his  head  against  that.  And 
always  the  shoe  workers  in  Kenyon  shops  received 
the  union  rate  of  wages,  and  worked  an  eight-hour 
day.  And  always  the  world  was  demanding  a 
cheaper  shoe,  —  cheaper  and  cheaper.  It  was 
small  wonder  that  sometimes  Christopher  grew 
dizzy,  confused,  desperate.  One  bad  year  there 
were  no  profits  to  be  shared,  but  when  he  told  his 
men,  they  lifted  their  hats  and  gave  three  cheers 
for  him.  This  was  the  first  evidence  he  had  had 
of  their  collective  good  will  and  sympathy,  and 
it  put  heart  into  him  for  a  time.  But  it  was  bad 


142          THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

for  him,  too ;  it  made  him  more  obstinate.  He  set 
his  teeth  hard  and  vowed  to  place  their  interests 
always  first.  The  next  year  Agnes  put  her  own 
little  capital  into  the  factory. 

"  But  your  father,"  Christopher  protested. 

"  It  is  my  money,"  Agnes  said.  "  All  years 
will  not  be  bad  like  this  one.  You  cannot  be 
allowed  to  go  under  for  the  lack  of  a  little  money, 
after  making  a  success  of  your  plan  for  six  years." 

"  A  success  1 "  He  smiled  sadly  and  shook  his 
head. 

"Yes,  a  success!"  she  persisted.  "  Of  course, 
looking  back,  you  see  now  how  differently  you 
might  have  done  it:  how  you  might  have  divided 
all  your  capital  among  the  men  and  made  it  a 
cooperative  factory  at  once,  instead  of  working 
towards  cooperation  through  profit  sharing.  But 
they  had  never  earned  that  money  —  why  would 
n't  it  have  been  charity,  just  the  same?" 

"  Only,"  he  explained,  "  it  would  have  put  the 
business  as  much  into  their  hands  as  into  mine, 
after  the  deed  of  gift  was  gotten  over.  The  busi 
ness  is  too  much  in  my  hands,  Agnes  —  I "  —  He 
paused,  looked  away  from  her,  and  resumed  hur 
riedly,  "  I  have  too  much  liberty  to  act  without 
consulting  them ;  this  is  only  a  modified  form  of 
paternalism." 

"  But  it  seemed  the  best  you  could  do ;  you  were 
only  thinking  of  them.  It  is  working  towards 
emancipation,"  she  added,  "  and  meantime  you  are 
educating  them." 


A  BACKWARD  GLANCE  143 

He  smiled  undisguised  satire  of  her  remark, 
then  looked  into  her  eyes  mournfully,  as  if  he 
would  tell  her  something.  But  he  kissed  her 
instead.  For  many  months  she  had  been  wait 
ing  for  him  to  tell  her  this  something,  and  always, 
as  now,  he  kept  it  back. 

"  There  is  the  boy,"  he  said  presently  ;  but  she 
knew  that  this  was  not  what  he  had  thought  of 
telling  her. 

"  The  boy  is  blessed  with  an  exuberantly  healthy 
body  and  an  active  mind,"  she  answered.  "If 
he  thinks  he  is  going  to  live  off  his  old  mother's 
scanty  property  he  is  very  much  mistaken." 

"  But  he  will  have  to  be  educated." 

Then  Agnes  laughed  and  shook  her  husband 
by  the  shoulders,  and  all  the  while  her  eyes  were 
shining  through  tears. 

"  I  suppose  you  expect  to  go  into  bankruptcy 
to-morrow,  or  perhaps  this  afternoon,"  she  said. 
"  Oh,  faithless,  faithless !  Are  you  sorry  you  did 
it  ?  Would  you  undo  it  if  you  could  ?  " 

"  No  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  I  would  do  it  all  over 
again  to-morrow.  I  would  do  everything  —  that 
—  I  —  have  done  —  just  as  I  have  done  it." 

He  spoke  slowly  and  thoughtfully,  as  if  his 
mind  were  dwelling  upon  some  one  thing  that  he 
had  done. 

"  Why  can't  the  men  take  out  shares  now  and 
begin  to  make  it  cooperative  ?  "  Agnes  exclaimed 
suddenly. 

"  Because  it  would  n't  be  fair  to  them,"  he  said, 


144 

and  added,  with  an  attempt  at  frankness,  "  the 
capital  is  somewhat  involved,  just  for  the  moment." 

And  more  years  passed  by.  What  went  on  in 
Christopher's  mind  in  those  years  no  one  ever 
knew,  but  he  grew  steadily  more  despondent,  more 
reticent. 

Two  or  three  communities  of  cranks  went  apart 
and  experimented,  and  failed.  Usually,  because 
Christopher  shared  their  convictions,  —  or  they 
thought  he  did,  —  they  bought  their  community 
shoes  of  him,  at  a  discount ;  and  of  course  they 
did  n't  pay  him  —  they  could  n't ;  they  did  n't 
have  the  money. 

Much  to  Christopher's  disgust  Kenyon  shops 
became  the  pride  and  boast  of  all  contiguous  phi 
lanthropy  and  economics.  Church  societies  and 
charitable  associations  overwhelmed  him  with  appli 
cations  for  work  for  deserving  individuals  who  had 
fallen  victims  to  the  iniquities  of  the  present  social 
system.  Professor  Gillespie  sent  down  detach 
ments  of  students  to  observe  conditions.  Maga 
zines  indicated  their  desire  to  publish  articles 
entitled  "  A  Model  Factory  ;  "  and  special  artists 
went  about  taking  pictures  of  exteriors  and  inte 
riors  :  The  Women's  Gymnasium ;  A  Working- 
man's  Home ;  The  Main  Street  of  Kenyon  Village 
looking  West  from  the  Shops  ;  The  Stitching- 
Room.  The  village  was  really  a  model,  but  Chris 
topher  and  his  wife  got  tired  of  hearing  people 
sentimentalize  over  it. 

As  for  the  manufacturing  world,  it  lifted  its  eye- 


A  BACKWARD  GLANCE  146 

brows  at  the  mention  of  Christopher,  and  professed 
itself  as  certain  of  one  thing,  namely,  "that  he 
didn't  make  anything  out  of  it,  and,  moreover, 
that  he  must  be  doing  business  at  a  loss." 

His  competitors  surmised,  with  sneers,  that  the 
old  man  had  left  more  money  when  he  died  than 
was  found  in  the  shoe  shops.  They  said,  "  How 
he  does  it  we  don't  see,  —  but !  "  — 

And  meanwhile  they  waited  to  find  out,  under 
selling  him  wherever  they  could  while  they  waited. 
Personally,  they  liked  him. 

People  in  general  were  not  particularly  inter 
ested  in  Christopher.  The  manufacture  of  shoes 
is  not  a  romantic  occupation  ;  it  is  devoid  of  the 
sensational  element ;  it  is  singularly  lacking  in 
picturesque  details.  The  public  is  already  suffi 
ciently  bored  by  the  commonplace  not  to  go  out  of 
its  way  to  study  mere  sordidness.  And  as  an  in 
dividual,  Christopher  did  not  try  to  catch  the  pub 
lic  eye.  He  and  his  wife  lived  the  year  round  in 
the  Homestead  at  Kenyon.  Agnes  said  the  coun 
try  was  the  best  place  for  a  little  boy.  Her  few 
women  friends  in  the  college  coterie  spoke  to  one 
another  occasionally  of  the  loneliness  of  her  life, 
but  Agnes  had  never  been  a  sociable  being,  and 
she  was  not  aware  that  she  missed  much  by  bury 
ing  herself  in  Kenyon.  The  young  Christopher 
was  an  occupation  in  himself,  and  after  the  bad 
year  of  no  profits  Agnes  had  rigidly  refused  to  keep 
more  than  one  servant.  Aunt  Ada  still  made  one 
of  the  household  ;  indeed,  had  it  not  been  for  aunt 


146          THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

Ada,  Agnes  and  Christopher,  in  the  early  days  of 
their  enthusiasm,  would  have  felt  obliged  to  give 
up  the  Homestead  and  go  to  live  among  the  men 
in  one  of  the  new  model  dwellings  in  the  village. 
Agnes  felt  the  necessity  for  this  step  more  keenly 
than  Christopher,  for  he  was  accustomed  to  the 
home  of  his  forefathers,  and  living  in  it  seemed 
almost  a  law  of  nature. 

"  Aunt  Ada  would  be  lonely.  We  could  n't  ask 
her  to  go  with  us,  and  we  really  have  no  right  to 
uproot  her.  She  ought  to  live  here ;  it  was  her 
father's  house,"  he  said.  "She  hasn't  money 
enough  to  buy  it,  and  I  can't  afford  to  make  her 
a  present  of  it." 

Agnes  did  not  press  the  matter  further.  Her 
conscience  was  quieted,  and  she  was  glad  of  an 
opportunity  to  stay.  She  loved  the  great  white 
and  yellow  house,  and  the  elms,  and  the  glen,  — 
and  the  cupola. 

So  aunt  Ada  did  the  mending,  and  awoke  each 
morning  to  new  domestic  bewilderments.  She  was 
always  getting  used  to  some  added  social  innova 
tion,  but  she  did  not  grow  more  radical  as  she  grew 
older  and  after  a  while  Agnes  stopped  trying  to 
plunge  her  into  enlightenment. 

But  there  was  society  at  Kenyon.  The  young 
mistress  of  the  Homestead  was  "  at  home  "  every 
Friday  afternoon  ;  and  almost  any  other  afternoon 
she  might  have  been  seen  in  the  village  with  her 
little  son,  calling  upon  Mrs.  MacDougal  or  Mrs. 
Casey  or  Mrs.  Morse  or  Mrs.  Somebody  Else, 


A  BACKWARD  GLANCE  147 

whose  husband  or  sons  or  daughters  worked  in 
the  shops  and  expected  to  be  directors  some  day. 
There  was  a  Woman's  Club  in  Kenyon,  that  stud 
ied  socialism  and  industry.  There  was  a  dancing 
class  that  met  once  a  fortnight  at  the  Homestead. 
The  "  best  people  "  criticised  Agnes,  and  wondered 
at  her,  but  she  moved  serenely  on  in  her  own  way  ; 
and  when  little  Christopher  had  a  birthday  party 
the  children  of  the  "  best  people  "  were  not  slighted, 
but  neither  were  the  Caseys. 

"  Of  course,  to  a  certain  extent  it 's  sentimental," 
Agnes  explained  to  Philip ;  "  at  least  outsiders  in 
sist  that  it  is,  but  I  don't  see  how  I  can  consistently 
do  anything  different.  And  the  people  who  say 
that  my  friendship  for  a  woman  like  Jeanie  Casey 
cannot  be  a  sincere  thing  because  of  the  difference 
in  our  stations,  don't  know  the  meaning  of  friend 
ship.  I  certainly  should  not  know  how  to  be 
friends  with  them,  even  though  we  did  have  the 
same  taste  in  parlor  furniture." 

"  We  are  passing  through  a  period  of  social 
strain,"  Philip  answered,  rather  stupidly,  Agnes 
thought ;  "  I  suppose  therein  lies  the  hopefulness 
of  the  situation.  There  was  no  social  strain  under 
the  feudal  system." 

Agnes  called  him  "  Philip  the  Hopeful,"  and  the 
Christian  paradox  was  embodied  in  this  title,  for 
no  clergyman  in  Philip's  city  took  a  more  austere 
view  of  life  than  Philip  did ;  not  one  kept  his  eyes, 
and  the  eyes  of  his  congregation,  more  firmly  fixed 
on  renunciation  and  failure  and  the  Cross  than 


148         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

Philip  did  ;  not  one  dwelt  so  keenly,  so  insistently, 
upon  the  capacity  of  man  for  sin. 

"  How  can  a  good  man  like  that  get  so  close  into 
your  heart  and  know  its  temptations  and  its  wicked 
desires?"  his  parishioners  said  to  one  another. 

Even  the  professor  once  asked  his  daughter  if 
she  thought  that  the  influence  of  so  ascetic  a  per 
sonality  as  Philip's  was  altogether  healthful  for  a 
child  like  little  Christopher.  But  Agnes  laughed 
and  said  that  a  little  asceticism  would  not  do  a 
young  animal  any  harm.  Perhaps  the  professor 
was  sensitive  on  the  subject  of  his  grandchild, 
for  the  friendship  between  Philip  and  little  Chris 
topher  was  a  mighty  one,  and  the  boy  sometimes 
questioned  grandfather's  authority. 

The  professor  had  slipped  into  a  handsome 
elderliness  of  the  mild  and  cultured  type.  But 
his  inward  tumult  was  not  the  less  disturbing  to 
him.  The  habit  of  intellectual  hesitation  had 
grown  upon  him,  and  there  were  some  of  his  stu 
dents  —  impatient,  radical  fellows  —  who  were 
known  to  complain  that  the  professor  did  not  keep 
abreast  of  the  times,  and  that  there  was  no  getting 
a  decided  answer  out  of  him.  Sometimes  of  a  Sat 
urday  night  when  he  came  down  to  Kenyon  he  had 
quite  a  badgered  air,  and  was  wont  to  find  flaws 
in  decided  action  of  any  kind.  He  took  the  re 
form  movement  of  Jeanie  Casey  very  ill,  and  said 
it  wellnigh  discouraged  him  from  ever  hoping  any 
thing  from  that  class  of  people,  since  they  were  so 
likely  to  spoil  all  true  progress  by  plunging  into 


A  BACKWARD  GLANCE  149 

affairs  much  too  big  for  them,  and  when  they  them 
selves  were  only  half  educated. 

"  It  is  this  injudicious  meddling  that  spoils  all, 
my  dear.  I  am  glad  that  you  have  not  yet  found 
the  caring  for  your  husband  and  child  too  slight 
an  occupation." 

Under  the  circumstances,  Agnes  thought  it  wise 
not  to  tell  him  that  she  found  time  to  look  after 
the  Casey  children  too. 

"  Is  everybody  as  discontented  as  we  are?"  she 
said  musingly.  "  I  wonder  what  is  the  matter 
with  us  ?  Are  we  the  queer  ones,  or  is  all  the  rest 
of  the  world  like  us  ?  I  suppose  I  ought  to  know 
more  people." 

"  You  know  heaps  of  people,  mother,"  protested 
little  Christopher.  "  You  know  all  the  people  in 
the  shops,  and  their  families,  —  more  than  twelve 
hundred." 

"  So  I  do  !  "  laughed  Agnes.  "  But  there  is 
Mrs.  Casey,  who  is  going  to  know  all  the  people  in 
Mr.  Watson's  shops  besides.  Think  of  that !  " 

He  did  think  of  it  for  a  moment,  and  then  he 
said,  in  unconscious  imitation  of  uncle  Philip, 
"  Will  it  make  her  any  happier?  " 

Agnes  gave  a  little  shout  of  laughter,  and  hugged 
him. 

"  Time  will  show,"  she  said. 


CHAPTER  in 
IN  THE  ENEMY'S  CAMP 

IT  was  a  quarter  before  seven  o'clock  on  a  Jan 
uary  morning,  and  the  streets  around  Peter  Wat 
son's  factory  were  full  of  sleepy  people  going  to 
work.  Some  of  the  people  had  to  pass  through  a 
hideous  little  park,  a  leafless,  frozen  place,  with  a 
corner  of  the  factory  nudging  it  on  its  west  end, 
and  rows  of  dirty  brick  lodging  -  houses  running 
down  its  sides.  Jeanie  Casey  came  out  of  one  of 
the  lodging-houses  and  stopped  on  the  steps  for  a 
moment,  looking  east.  There  was  a  red  sunrise. 
The  pointed  belfry  of  a  fire-engine  house  stood  up 
in  the  sky,  and  little  rosy  clouds  floated  behind  it 
and  above  it.  A  distant  hill,  notched  with  sub 
urban  roofs,  seemed  almost  dewy  in  the  morning 
light.  The  wonder  of  the  sky  glowed  abroad  over 
all  the  park ;  but  along  the  path  the  people  trailed 
westward,  a  grimy  line,  nor  ever  turned  their 
heads.  Jeanie  came  down  the  steps  and  loitered, 
watching  the  color  flush  and  pale. 

"  Did  you  know  there  was  a  sunrise  ?  "  she  said 
in  her  pretty  voice  to  one  of  the  women  who  came 
towards  her. 

"  I  know  it 's  ten  minutes  of  seven,"  the  woman 


IN  THE  ENEMY'S  CAMP  151 

answered,  "  and  I  won't  stand  no  chance  of  the 
elevator  if  I  don't  hustle.  Them  iron  stairs  wears 
me  out." 

She  hurried  on  and  left  Jeanie  in  the  middle  of 
the  park. 

"What  you  lookin'  at?"  said  another  woman, 
staring  apathetically  at  the  sky  ;  and  then,  after  a 
pause :  — 

"  They  say  old  Watson 's  took  back  Annie  Curry. 
You  was  n't  here  before  she  left,  was  you  ?  " 

"No." 

"  She  was  forelady  ten  years  for  Watson,  and 
then  she  got  huffy  and  lit  out.  But  I  guess  he 
can't  get  along  without  her.  There  ain't  nothin' 
she  don't  hear  nor  see,  and  she  runs  to  him  with 
everything.  You  'd  better  look  out  what  you  say 
in  front  of  her.  She  ain't  got  no  use  for  unions." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Jeanie  quietly.  She  had 
turned  and  was  walking  towards  the  factory  with 
the  woman. 

"  There  was  ten  new  ones  come  in  on  Friday," 
continued  the  woman ;  "  Foster  put  'em  to  top 
coverin'.  I  don't  see  nothin'  to  do  about  organ- 
izin'  in  a  place  like  this,  where  they  're  takin'  on 
help  all  the  time,  and  turnin'  it  off ;  there  's  too 
much  change." 

"  Still,"  returned  Jeanie,  "  there  is  a  great  many 
who  have  been  here  for  years,  and  stay  right  on. 
I  believe  the  union  will  succeed,  if  only  they  are 
willing  to  keep  from  their  striking  for  better  pay 
a  little  longer,  till  they  are  more  on  their  feet." 


152          THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

"  You  've  got  lots  of  grit,"  said  her  companion, 
and  the  two  turned  into  the  factory  doorway  and 
began  to  mount  the  iron  stairs. 

These  were  gray,  cold  stairs,  dirty,  although  they 
had  just  been  swept.  They  were  broad  and  not 
steep,  but  they  went  on  and  on  interminably,  past 
great  tin-plated  doors  painted  gray  and  decorated 
with  black  inscriptions,  such  as  "  Lasters,"  or 
"  Cutters,"  or  "  Socking  and  Heelers,"  or  "  Welt 
ing."  At  the  fifth  landing,  where  the  legend  on 
the  door  read  "  Stitching-Room,"  Jeanie  and  her 
companion  turned  in,  taking  off  their  jackets  as 
they  walked. 

The  factory  extended  the  length  of  a  city  block, 
and  the  stitching-room  was  as  long  as  the  factory. 
There  were  scores  of  windows  on  all  its  sides,  and 
through  some  of  them  the  sunrise  color  came ;  but 
although  the  room  was  full  of  people,  no  one  was 
looking  out  of  the  windows.  There  were  six  rows 
of  shoemakers'  benches,  —  low,  narrow  tables,  — 
down  the  length  of  the  room,  with  aisles  between. 
On  a  great  many  of  these  benches  stood  sewing-ma 
chines,  run  by  "  power,"  for  stitching  the  leather 
and  the  linings.  On  other  benches  were  pots  of 
brownish  paste  and  little  hammers.  On  others  were 
machines  for  putting  on  shoe  buttons  or  for  mak 
ing  buttonholes.  And  everywhere,  on  benches,  on 
chairs,  on  rows  of  open  shelves  between  the  aisles, 
were  parts  of  shoes,  some  half  sewed  into  shape, 
others  merely  cut  out  and  waiting  to  be  put  to 
gether,  and  all  tied  in  bundles  with  coarse  hempen 


IN  THE  ENEMY'S  CAMP  153 

string.  There  were  bundles  of  sole  linings,  and 
bundles  of  tongues,  bundles  of  vamps,  and  bundles 
of  uppers,  white  linings,  and  leather  outsides,  — 
black  leather,  brown  leather,  russet  leather.  Along 
the  ceiling  of  this  room,  in  swaying  rows  high  above 
the  benches,  the  hats  and  jackets  of  the  workers 
hung  on  little  swinging  planks  which  could  be 
detached  from  nails  in  the  rafters.  Women  and 
girls  moved  about,  getting  themselves  into  long 
aprons,  putting  machines  in  order,  hurrying  down 
the  aisles  with  pots  of  fresh  paste,  standing  round 
a  little  pen  near  the  middle  of  the  room  where 
needles  and  thread  were  sold.  The  superintendent, 
a  fat  man,  was  pulling  on  his  indoor  jacket  and 
speaking  to  a  tall,  keen-eyed  woman  with  a  thin, 
red-tipped  nose,  rough,  reddened  cheeks,  an  ob 
stinate  mouth,  and  black  hair  combed  in  water 
waves. 

"  That 's  her,"  said  Jeanie's  friend. 

"  She  is  a  very  narrow,  good  woman  with  a 
temper,"  Jeanie  observed. 

The  other  laughed.  "  You  've  struck  it  right," 
she  said,  "  'specially  the  temper ; "  and  having 
arrived  at  her  own  bench  she  stopped,  nodded, 
took  down  her  empty  plank,  hung  her  hat  and 
coat  on  it,  and  sent  the  garments  swaying  up  to 
the  ceiling.  Jeanie's  bench  was  farther  down  the 
room,  in  front  of  one  of  the  windows ;  and  as  she 
got  to  it  the  factory  whistle  blew,  and  screeched, 
and  reverberated  through  all  the  room.  Some  of 
the  employees  were  already  at  work,  the  others 


154          THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

settled  into  their  seats  as  unobtrusively  as  possible. 
There  were  signs  everywhere  on  the  walls :  — 

"  If  You  don't  Understand,  Ask  Questions." 

"  Be  Sure  You  're  Eight,  and  then  Hustle." 

"  Keep  your  Eyes  Open  and  your  Mouth  SHUT, 
except  on  Business."  > 

"  No  Visitors  Wanted." 

A  little  fifteen  year  old  girl,  who  was  sewing 
duck  covers  over  the  tops  of  satin-lined  boots  to 
keep  the  linings  from  being  soiled  in  the  lasting- 
room,  said :  — 

"  Good-morning,  Jeanie." 

All  the  women  called  one  another  by  their 
Christian  names ;  little  girls  said  "  Mary "  and 
"  Maggie  "  to  women  who  were  old  enough  to  be 
their  grandmothers.  It  was  the  way  of  the  fac 
tory.  Often  two  women  working  at  the  same 
bench  did  not  know  each  other's  surnames,  but 
there  had  to  be  some  sort  of  handle  for  conven 
ience  of  address. 

The  woman  who  sat  next  to  Jeanie  came  in  a 
little  late;  the  whiz  and  whir  of  the  machines 
had  already  begun. 

"  By  God !  I  've  only  got  one  life,"  she  cried, 
slamming  down  her  bag,  "  and  I  'm  havin'  it  at 
old  Peter's." 

She  was  a  gaunt,  gray-haired  woman,  blowzy, 
with  a  wild  sparkle  in  her  old  eye,  suggestive  of 
immodest  mirth.  All  the  young  things  who  sat 
near  her  called  her  "  Auntie,"  and  she  set  them 
on  to  talk  of  "  the  fellows,"  and  to  make  vulgar 


IN  THE  ENEMY'S  CAMP  155 

jokes.  The  benches  in  this  part  of  the  room  were 
separated  a  little  from  the  others,  and  used  for 
extra  women  when  there  was  a  special  pressure  of 
work.  The  comparative  seclusion  gave  the  stitch 
ers  who  worked  near  Jeanie  more  opportunity  to 
talk  together  than  they  would  have  had  in  the 
main  part  of  the  room. 

"Annie  Curry's  come  back,"  said  the  blowzy 
woman.  "  I  '11  bet  this  bench  don't  chin  so  free ; 
she 's  got  long  ears." 

"  They  ain't  near  so  long  as  your  tongue," 
volunteered  a  pert  little  girl  with  a  marquise  ring 
on  her  stubby  forefinger. 

Just  here  the  forewoman  came  down  the  aisle 
and  conversation  ceased.  Annie  Curry  walked 
slowly,  glancing  from  side  to  side  at  the  workers 
and  their  work.  She  paused  behind  Jeanie's  chair 
for  a  few  seconds.  This  was  an  experienced 
stitcher,  and  a  very  rapid  one,  not  a  bit  nervous, 
either.  Miss  Curry  seemed  about  to  make  a  re 
mark,  but  changed  her  mind  and  walked  on. 

"  Lord !  what 's  the  good  of  stitchin'  so  fast," 
grumbled  a  pretty  little  woman  opposite  Jeanie. 
"  She  can  tell  how  much  you  earn  even  if  you  don't 
put  it  on  your  slip.  It 's  you  hummers  that  takes 
the  bread  out  of  our  mouths  and  brings  on  the  cut- 
downs." 

"When  the  union  is  a  little  stronger  we  can 
make  them  take  back  the  cut  -  downs,"  Jeanie 
answered  in  a  low  tone. 

Then  the  machine  whizzed,  and  the  pasters  and 
pressers  tapped,  and  the  hours  dragged  on. 


166         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

In  the  middle  of  the  morning  a  tall  woman, 
all  flushed  and  tearful,  came  down  the  aisle  and 
stopped  to  speak  to  Jeanie's  opposite  neighbor, 
showing  her  a  slip  of  paper  with  figures  on  it. 
One  or  two  heads  were  lifted  inquiringly,  and  the 
conversation,  begun  in  a  low  tone,  broke  out  into 
audible  complaints. 

"  Of  course  I  know  who  done  it !  But  what 
can  I  say  ?  I  did  n't  see  her,  and  nobody  can't 
prove  it  against  her  because  she  don't  keep  no 
record  book." 

"  Such  dirty  low  ways  as  is  in  this  shop  I  never 
see  !  "  cried  the  pretty  woman.  "  Have  you  been 
to  Foster?" 

**  He  said  it  was  a  shame,"  the  tearful  woman 
replied ;  "  but  what  good 's  that  ?  She  got  her 
slip  in  first,  —  and  —  and  —  all  my  week's  pay  's 
took."  She  wiped  her  eyes  and  strode  off  down 
the  aisle. 

"  What 's  the  matter  ?  "  asked  some  one. 

"  A  girl  stole  her  case  numbers  off  her  slip  and 
sent  'em  in  first  to  the  office  and  got  all  her  pay." 

"  Oh,  shame  !  "  murmured  Jeanie. 

"  Yes,  indeed,  you  may  say  shame,"  the  pretty 
woman  exclaimed  ;  "  but  what  do  they  care  down 
to  the  office  who  gets  the  money?  Only  they 
ain't  goin'  to  pay  it  twicet.  And  that  woman 
ain't  paid  her  rent  for  four  months,  and  she  's  got 
two  young  ones  to  feed  on  this  kind  of  thing." 

"  If  Mr.  Watson  knew  would  he  not  do  some 
thing?" 


IN  THE  ENEMY'S  CAMP  157 

"  He  'd  say,  go  to  Foster." 

"  Old  Peter  ain't  so  bad,  though,"  commented 
another  woman.  "  I  seen  him  one  day  when  Fos 
ter  cursed  a  girl  had  spoiled  a  pair  of  shoes, — 
Polish  boots  they  was,  and  she  done  something  to 
the  eyelets  was  wrong.  And  old  Peter  called  him 
down,  —  called  him  down,  he  did,  right  before  the 
room,  and  he  begged  her  pardon." 

"  He  give  ten  dollars  to  that  young  feller  hurt 
his  arm  on  the  machine,  don't  you  know  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Starr  made  him  do  that,"  said  Jeanie. 

"  Aw  yes,  words  is  cheap,"  cried  Auntie.  "  Fos 
ter  can  swear  at  me  all  day,  so  I  get  my  pay,  I 
don't  care.  But  it 's  the  dockin'  and  this  and 
that,  and  maybe  only  fifty  cents  in  your  envelope 
Saturday  night ;  and  you  've  been  workin'  all 
week  from  seven  till  six.  My  Lord !  I  don't  see 
how  some  of  'em  lives.  But  then  they  don't.  I 
don't  call  myself  livin'  "  — 

"  Just  the  same  you  're  a  lively  corpse,"  said  the 
little  girl  with  the  marquise  ring. 

"Yes,  you  and  me  has  to  hustle,  don't  we, 
Katie?"  the  old  woman  replied  with  a  meaning 
grin.  "  There  was  somebody  askin'  after  you  last 
night ;  where  was  you  ?  " 

"You  hold  your  mouth,"  said  Katie,  turning 
sullen. 

"  And  you  expectin'  to  do  somethin'  with  a 
union  in  a  shop  like  this  !  "  said  the  pretty  woman, 
addressing  Jeanie.  "  I  tell  you,  you  can't  never 
do  it.  How  can  anybody  tell  but  the  one  she  sits 


158         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

next  to  at  the  bench  goes  and  reports  all  she  says  ? 
There  's  no  trusting  nobody." 

Annie  Curry  came  by  and  took  away  a  case  of 
vamps  and  uppers  which  Jeanie  had  just  stitched. 

"  I  tell  you,  she 's  got  her  eye  on  you,"  whis 
pered  Auntie. 

"  Why  ?  "  Jeanie  asked. 

*'  I  don't  know,  —  but  she  has,  just  the  same." 

There  was  a  pretty  little  dark-eyed  girl  near  by, 
top-covering  shoes,  and  she  had  not  covered  ten 
pairs  in  all  the  three  hours  since  the  morning 
whistle  had  blown. 

"  Mamie 's  got  the  jumps,"  some  of  her  com 
rades  said. 

Mamie  fidgeted  in  her  seat,  went  on  errands  for 
her  neighbors,  distributed  duck  covers,  cases  of 
shoes,  drinks  of  water ;  did  anything  that  would 
keep  her  from  her  work.  Once  she  opened  the 
window  and  leaned  out,  and  Auntie  said  : — 

"  Whether  you  fall  out,  or  whether  you  stay  in, 
it  don't  make  no  difference,  except  they  '11  have 
to  bury  you." 

"  I  would  n't  mind  goin'  to  heaven,"  muttered 
the  girl. 

"  Heaven  !  "  laughed  Auntie. 

"Well,  where 'd  you  guess  I'd  go?"  the  girl 
exclaimed  defiantly. 

"  And  what  will  you  be  doing  when  you  get  to 
heaven  ?  "  asked  Jeanie,  smiling. 

"  I  '11  sit  on  a  throne  and  make  faces  at  Peter 
Watson ;  that's  what  I  '11  do !  " 


IN  THE  ENEMY'S  CAMP  159 

"  Shut  that  window !  "  exclaimed  the  pretty 
woman.  "  It 's  blowin'  right  down  my  back." 

"  Pity  about  you !  "  said  Mamie,  and  then  taking 
up  her  needle  languidly,  "Foster's  took  on  two 
Armenians  this  morning." 

"  I  know  what  that  means,"  the  pretty  woman 
cried.  "  The  minute  them  foreign  help  begins  to 
come  into  a  shop  prices  goes  down.  They  don't 
live  like  decent  folks." 

"  I  'm  foreign,"  said  Jeanie,  with  a  smile. 

Mamie  giggled. 

"  Oh,  well,  you  know  what  I  mean,"  the  pretty 
woman  explained,  — "  French  Canadians  and  all 
low,  black-lookin'  people  that  talks  gibberish." 

"  What  are  you  ?  —  Scotch?  "  asked  Mamie. 

Jeanie  nodded  at  the  girl  over  the  top  of  the 
machine. 

"  Yes,  I  am  Scotch.  I  only  cam'  over  from 
Scotland  when  I  was  a  bit  of  a  girl,  but  a  wee 
mite  older  than  you ;  yet  I  was  bigger  ;  I  had  n't 
been  put  into  a  factory  and  my  growth  stopped." 

Mamie's  eyes  were  wistful. 

"  Mother  put  me  in  to  help  out,  because  there 's 
so  many  of  us,"  she  said.  "  What  did  you  do  in 
Scotland  ?  " 

"  I  milked  the  cows,  and  fed  the  pigs,  and  made 
the  butter.  I  use  n't  to  do  much  else  then,  when 
I  was  little.  And  I  had  a  great  liking  to  go  away 
alone  among  the  hills.  Not  little  mounds  like 
that  one  out  of  the  window  with  houses  atop,  but 
great  up-climbing,  tree-covered  ones ;  and  rocky 


160         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

they  were.  And  I  'd  take  the  dog,  Murdoch,  we 
called  him,  and  I  'd  presently  plait  me  a  leash  of 
rashes,  —  rushes  they  say  here,  but  I  've  not  seen 
any  like,  —  tall  and  green  and  thick.  And  away 
would  we  go  into  the  hills,  the  leash  around  my 
wrist,  and  the  dog  straining  to  get  out  of  my 
hand.  And  I  wore  no  shoes  in  those  days,  nor 
ever  thought  to  come  to  the  making  of  them. 
And,  oh,  the  ground,  the  earth  and  the  grass, 
't  was  good  to  the  feel  of  you  !  —  Go  on  with  your 
work,  child,  you  've  not  earned  five  cents'  worth 
this  morning.  It 's  a  pity  to  stay  in  a  noisy,  close 
place  like  this  if  you  're  not  here  to  work." 

"  What  else  did  you  do  ?  "  said  Mamie,  shoving 
her  needle  in  and  out  once  or  twice.  Auntie  and 
the  pretty  woman  and  all  the  others  within  hear 
ing  were  listening.  The  coarse  jokes  had  ceased 
for  the  moment. 

"  Of  a  Sunday,  then,  I  went  to  church,  —  to  the 
kirk  we  called  it,  —  and  I  read  in  the  Good  Book. 
All  that  was  before  my  grandfather  died,  and  my 
father,  and  the  farm  went.  They  were  good  men 
—  those  two.  I  '11  be  remembering  always  the 
last  Sunday  my  father  was  alive,  and  he  read  for 
the  prayer,  —  the  night,  —  of  Ananias  and  Sap- 
phira  his  wife,  and  the  wicked  lie  that  was  theirs, 
and  he  closed  the  book  and  looked  upon  me  fee- 
ble-like,  and  '  Jeanie,'  he  sayed,  *  whatever  it  be 
that  becomes  to  you,  say  the  truth.  A  lie 's  a 
wicked  thing,'  he  sayed.  And  I  've  borne  that  in 
mind  for  all  these  years,  and  kept  to  it." 


IN  THE  ENEMY'S  CAMP  161 

The  tapping  and  whirring  continued  without 
words  for  a  while.  The  faces  of  some  of  the 
women  had  suddenly  flushed.  Mamie  looked 
tired  and  a  little  bewildered.  Auntie  winked  at 
a  flashy  girl  with  a  dirty  pink  ribbon  around  her 
neck,  but  the  girl  only  smiled  in  a  sick  sort  of 
way  and  went  on  with  her  work. 

A  girl  with  a  case  of  shoes  in  her  arms,  a 
stitcher  from  another  part  of  the  room,  came  down 
the  aisle  and  stopped  a  moment  to  lay  her  hand  on 
Jeanie's  shoulder  and  say  :  — 

"  Shall  you  be  here  the  noon  hour  ?  There  's 
some  of  us  wants  to  speak  to  you." 

"Yes!" 

New  cases  of  shoes,  or  parts  of  shoes,  were 
brought  and  dumped  down  beside  the  workers. 
The  top-coverers  grabbed  for  the  cases  of  laced  or 
Polish  boots,  as  they  were  called,  and  grumbled 
when  they  could  n't  get  them.  It  was  easier  to 
sew  through  eyelets  than  through  leather,  and  the 
buttoned  boots  were  paid  for  at  the  same  rate  as 
the  Polish. 

"  This  is  the  third  case  of  Polish  boots  that  girl 
over  there,  that  Jenny,  has  took  and  put  under 
her  chair  this  hour,"  said  Mamie  ;  "  and  she  ain't 
finished  her  one  case  yet.  My,  but  she  's  got  the 
dirty,  rotten  gall !  " 

"  What 's  that  you  're  sayin'  ?  "  asked  the  girl 
in  question  fiercely. 

"  It 's  none  of  your  business  what  I  'm  sayin'. 
I  was  n't  speakin'  to  you." 


162         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

"  You  was  sayin'  it  about  me,  and  I  '11  have 
you  know  I  ain't  afraid  to  come  over  there  and 
break  your  face  for  you,  —  not  for  Foster,  nor 
Annie  Curry,  nor  none  of  them.  It  ain't  the  first 
time  you  've  spoken  low  down  talk  about  me." 

"  Nor  it  won't  be  the  last,"  began  Mamie ;  but 
the  forewoman  came  in  sight,  and  Jeanie  said, 
"  Oh,  a  gentle  little  girl  like  you  to  talk  so  !  "  and 
the  pretty  woman  snapped  out,  "  Shut  up,  you 
little  sauce-box !  " 

"  I  'd  like  to  know  if  you  all  think  this  place  is 
a  chin  parlor,  that  you  're  gossiping  and  laugh 
ing  so  every  time  I  come  by  ?  "  observed  Annie 
Curry,  pausing  a  moment.  Nobody  replied  to 
her,  and  she  passed  on. 

"There,  do  you  see  now!  "  murmured  the  pretty 
woman.  And  there  was  no  more  conversation 
until  the  noon  whistle  blew. 

This  was  a  signal  for  general  confusion.  The 
greater  number  of  the  women  took  down  their 
hats  and  coats,  and  hurried  out ;  others  only  bent 
lower  over  their  work  with  grim  eyes ;  others, 
again,  sat  back  in  their  chairs,  stretched  them 
selves,  wiped  their  faces,  and  took  their  luncheon 
out  of  bags  or  paper  packages.  Among  these 
latter  was  Jeanie.  She  opened  the  window  near 
her  and  breathed  in  long  breaths  of  the  sharp 
January  air ;  she  sat  on  the  edge  of  her  bench  and 
ate  her  lunch.  A  man  came  through  the  room  with 
a  tray  of  sandwiches  and  doughnuts,  and  a  large 
can  of  coffee.  Some  of  the  women  bought  from 


IN  THE  ENEMY'S  CAMP  163 

him,  and  sat  at  their  work  sipping  and  munching. 
Presently  the  girl  who  had  spoken  to  Jeanie 
about  remaining  in  during  the  lunch  hour  came 
toward  her,  followed  by  three  other  girls.  They 
were  all  neat,  wide-awake,  and  efficient  looking, 
evidently  skilled  workers. 

"  We  wanted  to  talk  a  little  more  about  what 
was  up  at  the  union  last  night,"  began  the  first 
girl.  "We  wasn't  just  speakin'  for  ourselves 
then,  you  know ;  it 's  the  feelin'  of  most  all  the 
girls.  Ain't  it,  Nellie  ?  " 

"  Sure ! "  said  Nellie,  who  was  a  very  tall,  pale 
girl.  "  They  come  to  me  and  they  says,  '  What 's 
the  matter  with  the  union,  Nellie?'  they  says. 
'Why  don't  it  get  a  move  on?'  they  says;  'we 
thought  Mis'  Casey  said  we  was  goin'  to  ask  for 
higher  wages.'  Ever  so  many  of  them  was  sayin' 
just  them  words  to  me,  Mis'  Casey.  And  now 
this  new  cut-down  that's  come  last  week  makes 
'em  all  mad.  'What's  the  good  of  a  union,* 
they  says,  'if  you've  got  to  take  the  cut-down 
'thout  sayin'  nothin'  ? '  " 

"  If  you  want  to  keep  them  interested  you  've 
got  to  do  somethin',  Mrs.  Casey,"  said  the  third 
girl,  a  brunette  with  a  magenta  stock  which  almost 
touched  her  ears.  "  They  keep  complainin'  that 
they've  put  in  their  dues  for  two  months  now, 
and  they  can't  ask  no  more  girls  to  put  in  money 
when  there 's  nothin'  to  show  for  it." 

"  But,  you  know,  everything  must  take  time," 
said  Jeanie.  She  looked  from  one  to  another  of 


164         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

these  young  women  and  felt  discouraged  and  help 
less.  "  If  we  strike  we  must  have  money  behind 
us  to  live  on  while  we  're  out  of  work." 

"  Then,  as  far  as  I  see,"  commented  the  fourth 
girl,  "we're  expected  to  pay  our  money  for  two 
or  three  years,  and  all  the  time  workin'  in  this 
hell  of  a  shop,  —  yes,  it  is  that,"  she  cried,  as  the 
others  smiled  or  lifted  their  eyes  in  mild  protest. 
"  How  do  I  know  I  '11  be  here  in  three  years  ? 
Maybe  I  '11  be  dead.  It 's  enough  to  kill  you,  — 
such  a  place ! "  This  girl  was  a  little  yellow- 
haired,  befrizzled  creature. 

"  Why  don't  you  say  maybe  you  '11  be  married  ? 
That 's  what  you  mean,"  laughed  the  young  wo 
man  with  the  magenta  stock. 

"  Well,  and  I  don't  care  if  I  do !  "  retorted  the 
little  one. 

"  You  see,  Mis'  Casey,"  —  this  was  the  young 
woman  who  had  asked  for  the  interview;  she 
seemed  quieter  than  the  others,  —  "  you  see,  Mis' 
Casey,  this  cut-down 's  made  the  stitchers  awful 
mad.  There  ain't  more  than  a  dozen  of  us  has 
earned  as  much  as  a  dollar  a  day  since  it  was 
put  on ;  and  I  was  talkin'  to  a  man  last  night,  — 
he  's  a  cutter ;  Joe  Murphy,  you  know  him,"  —  ap- 
pealingly  to  her  friends,  —  "  and  he  said  it  was  a 
shame,  and  he  knew  the  cutters  would  go  out  with 
us,  and  he  thought  the  lasters  would  too,  if  we 
struck.  They  're  all  of  'em  spoilin'  for  a  row,  he 
said." 

"  But  we  '11  have  to  consult,"  Jeanie  began ; 


IN  THE  ENEMY'S  CAMP  165 

"we'd  have  to  lay  it  before  the  Boot  and  Shoe 
Workers  and  get  their  support." 

"  I  guess  we  're  the  ones  to  know  what  we  want, 
we  that  has  to  work  in  this  shop !  "  cried  the  little 
blonde.  "  I  'd  like  to  see  anybody  telling  me 
what  I  want  or  not." 

"  You  know  it  is  n't  safe  to  talk  so  loud  of  these 
things  here,"  cautioned  Jeanie.  "  Miss  Curry  has 
come  back  from  her  lunch." 

"  If  she  don't  hold  her  jaw  she  '11  get  somethin' 
from  me  now,"  muttered  Nellie,  following  the  fore 
woman  with  angry  eyes,  —  "talkin'  the  way  she 
does!" 

"  I  don't  see  what  old  Peter  took  her  back  for, 
anyhow,"  said  the  girl  with  the  magenta  stock; 
"  there  was  never  no  peace  with  her." 

"I'll  tell  you,"  the  little  blonde  volunteered; 
"  she  runs  to  him  and  tattles  everything,  and  she 
knows  when  a  worker  don't  put  in  all  she  makes  on 
her  own  slip.  We  ain't  done  with  cut-downs  yet." 

"  Well,  this  I  know,"  cried  Nellie,  "  I  '11  throw  up 
this  job,  and  the  union,  and  all,  but  she  don't  jaw 
me  one  more  time  the  way  she  done  this  morning. 
I  ain't  here  to  take  that  kind  of  talk  from  nobody ; 
no,  not  from  old  Peter  even." 

Women  were  beginning  to  come  back  to  the 
benches.  Some  of  the  machines  were  already 
whirring,  and  little  Mamie  loitered  near  the  group 
of  talkers. 

"  We  must  n't  be  saying  any  more  before  her," 
whispered  Jeanie,  and  then  the  whistle  blew. 


166         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

The  afternoon  was  a  gray  one ;  drops  of  misty 
rain  flicked  against  the  windows.  From  time  to 
time  some  girl,  passing  down  the  aisle  on  an 
errand,  would  stop  at  Jeanie's  chair  and  say  some 
thing  in  a  low  tone.  After  one  of  these  whispered 
conferences  the  pretty  woman  looked  across  mean 
ingly  at  Jeanie  and  said :  — 

"  I  think  so  too." 

"  You  will  only  bring  ruin  to  yourselves.  It  is 
not  time,"  Jeanie  answered,  and  bent  over  her 
machine  with  a  troubled  face. 

"  You  can't  wait  forever,  when  you  get  as  old 
as  I  am,"  muttered  Auntie. 

"  But  we  're  not  working  only  for  ourselves," 
Jeanie  answered  softly. 

"  Maybe  you  ain't,  but  I  am.  I  'd  like  to  know 
who  'd  work  for  me  if  I  did  n't." 

"Mrs.  Casey,"  said  a  girl  hurriedly,  leaning 
over  Jeanie,  "  there 's  three  hundred  and  fifty 
names  on  the  union  secretary's  book,  and  only 
five  hundred  in  the  stitching-room.  Most  of  the 
rest  that  ain't  in  the  book  are  only  little  young 
things,  or  those  as  are  too  new  to  have  been  talked 
to." 

She  did  not  wait  for  an  answer,  but  went  on 
down  the  room  with  a  case  of  vamps.  Presently 
she  came  back. 

"  We  've  found  out  nearly  everybody,  and  they 
are  all  willin'.  Sha'  n't  I  send  out  the  notices  for 
an  extra  meetin'  to-morrow  night  ?  " 

Jeanie  stopped  her  work  and  meditated  with 


IN  THE  ENEMY'S  CAMP  167 

her  head  bent.  She  was  frightened  at  the  restless 
insistence  of  the  women.  She  felt  as  if  she  had 
opened  water  gates  and  the  flood  was  upon  her. 

"And  besides,"  continued  the  girl,  "all  the 
middle  of  the  room  is  mad  against  Annie  Curry ; 
they  say  they  won't  stand  her.  They  '11  go  out 
if  Peter  don't  shake  her.  They  're  going  to  get 
up  a  petition.  We'd  ought  to  have  a  meetin' 
about  that  if  we  don't  about  the  other.  And 
I  know  three  lasters,  Mrs.  Casey,  and  they  all 
says  the  lasters  '11  go  out  if  we  do,  and  only  too 
glad  to.  They  say  this  cut-down  's  only  the  be 
ginning." 

"  This  corner  here  is  the  noisiest  and  the  laziest 
place  in  the  whole  stitching-room." 

The  voice  was  that  of  Annie  Curry. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here,  Rose  Bailey  ?  This 
ain't  where  you  belong." 

"  Well,  I  've  got  to  get  more  vamps,  have  n't  I  ? 
It  ain't  my  fault  if  they  keep  the  vamps  down  to 
this  end  of  the  room." 

"  There 's  plenty  of  vamps  at  the  other  end." 

"  Well,  I  did  n't  see  them." 

"  You  did  n't  want  to  see  them,  then,  because 
they  were  there." 

"  I  tell  you  I  did  n't  see  them." 

"You're  not  the  first  girl  I've  caught  down 
at  this  end  of  the  room  where  she  ought  n't  to  be. 
I  don't  know  what  you  're  up  to,"  she  continued, 
addressing  herself  now  to  Jeanie,  "  but  if  I  find 
any  more  girls  hanging  round  your  chair  and 


168         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

making  confusion  when  they  ought  to  be  at  work, 
I  '11  complain  of  you  to  the  superintendent." 

The  girl  with  the  vamps  went  back  to  her  own 
place  muttering. 

"  This  whole  room  acts  as  if  it  had  a  bum-shell 
underneath  it,"  the  forewoman  resumed,  coming 
nearer  to  Jeanie  and  watching  her  as  she  worked. 
"  I  should  think  you  'd  be  ashamed,  a  quick  worker 
like  you,  to  keep  the  slow  ones  away  from  their 
earnings." 

"  She  knows  a  better  way,  maybe,  to  help  the 
slow  ones  than  workin'  all  her  might  and  bringin' 
on  a  cut-down,"  exclaimed  the  pretty  woman. 

Jeanie  looked  at  her  warningly,  but  it  was  too 
late. 

"  Oh,  you  know  a  better  way,  do  you  ?  "  Annie 
Curry  paused,  and  studied  the  rapid  stitcher. 
"  Where  have  I  seen  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  Jeanie  answered. 

"  Have  n't  I  seen  you  at  Kenyon  ?  " 

"No!" 

"  I  have  a  memory  for  faces,  but  I  have  n't  been 
down  there  in  years.  Have  you  ever  worked  in 
the  Kenyon  shoe  shops  ?  " 

"  No,  I  never  have." 

Miss  Curry  stood  another  while  in  silence  before 
she  said :  — 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  where  you  're  come  from, 
but  I  can  tell  you  one  thing :  if  you  've  come 
round  here  with  any  of  that  trades  union  talk,  you 
won't  make  anything  out  of  it.  That 's  one  thing 


IN  THE  ENEMY'S  CAMP  169 

Mr.  Watson  won't  stand.  You  're  a  good  worker, 
and  you  look  sensible.  If  you  know  which  side 
your  bread 's  buttered,  you  won't  try  to  come  any 
labor  agitation  in  this  shop.  It  don't  go  down." 

She  went  off  after  this. 

"My  bread  ain't  been  buttered  on  either  side 
so  long,  I  guess  I  ain't  got  nothin'  to  lose,"  said 
Auntie,  with  a  laugh. 

"Don't  you  be  frightened  of  her  now,"  whis 
pered  the  pretty  woman  to  Jeanie.  "  You  're 
solid  with  Foster ;  he  knows  a  good  worker  when 
he's  got  one,  and  he  ain't  goin'  to  let  her  turn 
you  off." 

"  You  should  never  have  said  what  you  did  to 
her,"  Jeanie  returned.  "  We  are  not  in  a  state 
to  declare  the  union  yet." 

"  And  what  did  I  say  ?  "  cried  the  pretty  woman, 
bridling.  "  Union  !  Who  said  a  word  about  the 
union  ?  Not  I !  I  '11  put  it  to  you,  Auntie,  if  I 
did.  Now,  did  I  ?  There 's  nobody  here  can  go 
for  to  say  I  did." 

"  Aw,  shut  up  !  "  said  little  Mamie.  "  Do  you 
want  her  jumpin'  on  us  again?  " 

No  more  girls  ventured  to  speak  to  Jeanie  that 
afternoon,  but  her  own  thoughts  shouted  insistently 
to  her  above  the  roar  of  the  machines. 

"  It  was  a  lie,  —  a  verra  black  and  complete  lie. 
But  if  I  had  not  done  it,  all  this  work  of  four 
months  would  have  been  for  naught.  He  will  not 
let  Kenyon  workers  in  here.  Oh,  Jeanie,  it  was 
a  lie  !  I  '11  not  tell  Jimmie.  I  could  n't  bear 


170         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

to  have  Jimmie  excuse  the  lie  to  me.  And  I 
talked  about  my  father  and  his  words  ;  and  all  the 
women  believe  me.  But  I  am  a  truthful  woman. 
They  should  believe  me.  This  is  a  lie  for  the 
truth.  God  will  forgive  me  this  lie.  I  couldn't 
do  the  Lord's  work  if  I  did  not  tell  this  lie.  He 
made  me  tell  it." 

At  the  end  of  the  day  she  went  down  the  iron 
stairs  with  the  great  throng  of  men  and  women. 
They  did  not  know  she  was  a  Kenyon  woman ;  she 
had  kept  that  from  them. 

"  And  when  they  do  know,  they  '11  have  forgot 
about  the  lie,"  she  said. 

But  she  could  not  sleep  that  night. 

To  her  great  relief,  when  the  strike  came  it  was 
not  through  the  stitchers.  She  felt  that  the  Lord 
had  condoned  her  offense,  but  she  did  not  cease 
to  abhor  herself. 


CHAPTER   IV 
A  PLAN  OF  CAMPAIGN 

PHILIP  was  the  first  to  hear  that  there  was  a 
strike  in  Peter  Watson's  factory.  He  met  a  shoe- 
making  parishioner,  Martin  Carey,  on  the  street 
one  morning  late  in  January,  and  he  saw  that  the 
man  wanted  to  tell  him  something ;  so  he  stopped 
to  shake  hands.  There  was  a  moment  of  blank 
silence  between  them,  in  the  midst  of  the  traffic 
and  noise  of  the  street,  and  then  Martin  said  :  — 

"  The  strike  's  on,  Mr.  Starr ;  we  've  all  just 
come  out  this  morning." 

Philip  was  taken  by  surprise ;  he  had  had  more 
confidence  in  the  patience  and  good  sense  of  the 
men. 

"  I  did  not  know  that  you  expected  to  do  any 
thing  in  such  a  hurry!  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  Nor  we  did  n't,  Mr.  Starr,  but  he  forced  us 
to  it.  There  was  notices  put  up  last  Thursday  all 
over  the  shop,  demanding  every  shoe  worker  to 
sign  a  paper  that  he  did  n't  belong  to  any  labor 
organization,  and  would  n't." 

"  Ah,  then  it  was  not  -for  higher  wages  ?  " 

"  No,  sir  !  There  was  some  fool  women  among 
the  stitchers  a-dyin'  to  strike,  but  we  'd  'a'  headed 


172         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

them  off.  It 's  not  against  the  cut-down,  and  it 's 
not  for  a  raise ;  it 's  for  the  union.  Watson  had 
got  wind  of  it.  We  sent  a  committee  to  talk  to 
him,  but  he  said  he  'd  never  had  no  union  in  his 
shop,  and  he  never  will.  He  '11  treat  with  the 
individual,  man  to  man,  and  not  have  no  organi 
zation  round,  intimidatin'  honest  men  from  their 
work,  that  has  a  right  to  earn  a  livin'  in  a  free 
country.  That 's  his  talk,  you  know.  And  we  all 
come  out,  it  ain't  an  hour  ago." 

Philip  stared  gravely  at  the  passing  crowd  and 
said  nothing. 

"  You  don't  blame  us,  Mr.  Starr?" 

"  No,  Martin,  I  don't  blame  you.  But  a  strike 
is  a  serious  thing,  —  a  terrible  thing." 

"Lord!  — don't  I  know?"  said  Martin.  "I 
did  n't  want  to  come  out.  I  'd  have  stood  another 
cut-down  without  a  fight.  I  know  the  manufac 
turers  is  hard  pressed,  Mr.  Starr,  undersellin'  and 
undersellin',  notwithstandin'  old  Peter  give  away 
twelve  thousand  in  charities  last  year,  the  papers 
said.  I  'd  have  took  a  cut-down  and  said  nothin'. 
But  the  union 's  our  one  chance  to  hold  our  own 
against  them  ;  and  to  ask  a  man  to  sign  away  his 
belongin'  to  a  union  is  askin'  him  to  sign  away 
his  freedom.  It's  makin'  a  slave  of  him,  body 
and  soul.  And  if  I  've  got  to  starve  anyhow,  I  '11 
starve  my  way,  and  not  the  way  Peter  Watson 
chooses." 

"  Did  they  all  come  out  ?  "  asked  Philip. 

"  Every  one,  solid,  Mr.  Starr.     Even  the  ones 


A  PLAN  OF  CAMPAIGN  173 

that  was  n't  in  the  union  followed  us.  They  '11 
go  back,  though,  there  's  lots  of  them  that  '11  go 
back.  That 's  the  trouble.  But  we  '11  make  it 
hot  for  them  if  they  do." 

"  You  must  avoid  violence  if  you  want  to  carry 
the  sympathy  of  the  community,"  Philip  cautioned. 

The  man  looked  gloomy. 

"  You  won't  gain  anything  by  being  brought  up 
in  the  courts." 

"  "We  ain't  goin'  into  this  thing  for  violence, 
Mr.  Starr.  But  the  community  'd  ought  to  deal 
fair  by  us ;  and  they  don't  take  into  account  that 
sometimes  if  a  man  gets  his  head  broke,  it 's  be 
cause  he  deserves  it." 

Philip  smiled  and  held  out  his  hand.  "  That 's 
true,"  he  said,  "  only  be  careful." 

"  You  don't  happen  to  know  if  there 's  any  help 
needed  out  to  Kenyon,  Mr.  Starr,  —  an  experi 
enced  laster?" 

The  clergyman  shook  his  head.  "I  don't  be 
lieve  so,  Martin.  Shoe  workers  at  Kenyon  don't 
throw  up  their  jobs  if  they  can  help  it.  Mr.  Ken 
yon  was  saying  the  other  day  that  he  turns  away 
applicants  all  the  time." 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  the  man  acquiesced  sadly ;  "  I 
did  n't  have  no  real  hope  of  such  a  thing,  but  it 's 
safe  to  ask.  There  's  a  man,  now !  "  he  contin 
ued  with  rising  enthusiasm.  "  You  don't  see  his 
name  on  no  charity  lists  and  orphans'  homes  and 
hospitals.  The  men  that  does  his  work  gets  his 
money.  Well,  Mr.  Starr,  I  'm  keeping  you.  If 


174         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

you  'd  go  round  and  see  Mary  when  you  have  a 
spare  hour  ?  I  hate  to  go  home  and  tell  her  ;  but 
she 's  a  good  woman." 

Philip  went  out  to  the  professor's.  He  had  some 
hope  of  finding  Christopher  there,  as  this  was 
Christopher's  day  in  town  and  he  usually  lunched 
with  his  father-in-law  before  going  into  the  city 
for  an  afternoon  of  business.  Philip  found  the 
two  men  in  the  professor's  study,  and  they  were 
glad  to  see  him,  but  surprised,  for  he  did  not  or 
dinarily  make  visits  to  the  college  in  the  middle 
of  the  day. 

"  I  came,  hoping  to  find  you  together,"  he  began. 
And  then,  without  further  prelude,  "  The  strike 
has  come  in  Watson's  shops." 

For  a  moment  there  was  silence. 

"  It  is  just  to-day,  then,"  said  Christopher. 

"Yes,  this  morning.  I  met  one  of  the  men. 
They  all  came  out  together." 

"  I  did  not  know  that  a  strike  was  anticipated 
there,"  observed  the  professor. 

The  impersonal,  intellectual  interest  in  his  tone 
seemed  to  impress  the  other  two  men ;  they  looked 
at  him  for  a  moment  in  a  kind  of  daze,  adjusting 
themselves  to  the  fact  that  this  was  no  vital  mat 
ter  to  him. 

"  Jeanie  Casey  was  troubled  the  last  time  I  saw 
her,"  Christopher  said  presently.  "  She  was  afraid 
a  strike  would  be  precipitated.  The  women  have 
been  infuriated  by  the  last  cut-down." 

"  But  they  have  not  struck  against   the  cut- 


A  PLAN  OF  CAMPAIGN  175 

down,"  Philip  explained;  "Watson  has  tried  to 
make  them  sign  a  contract  giving  up  their  union. 
It  is  for  the  principle  of  the  union  that  they  are 
striking." 

"  Really !  "  exclaimed  the  professor,  leaning  on 
the  study  table.  "  Now,  that  seems  to  me  remark 
ably  fine  and  noble." 

"Nevertheless,"  said  Christopher,  "I  have  no 
hope  that  the  strike  will  succeed." 

"  And  why  ?  "  demanded  the  professor.  It  was 
always  difficult  for  him  to  understand  why  any 
thing  which  obtained  academic  sanction  might 
not  be  accepted  without  question  by  the  general 
public. 

"  Just  because  it  is  for  a  principle,"  Christopher 
asserted ;  "  If  it  were  for  a  specific  cause,  an  ob 
vious  material  need,  I  should  have  some  hope  for 
it.  But  the  community  has  not  yet  acquired  the 
ability  to  grasp  principles  ;  it  does  n't  act  on  prin 
ciple  itself  ;  and,  moreover,  the  trade  union  princi 
ple  is  not  simply  overlooked  by  the  community,  it 
is  actively  detested." 

For  a  number  of  years  the  union  principle  had 
been  the  professor's  pet  hobby.  He  had  been  one 
of  the  earliest  economists  in  the  country  to  come 
round  to  it ;  for  whatever  his  defects  might  be 
he  was  a  student,  and  a  judge  of  book  matter  and 
written  opinions.  He  had  long  been  in  sympathy 
with  the  English  union  movement ;  and  if  he  got 
his  ideas  on  the  general  subject  from  English  pub 
lications,  rather  than  from  observation  of  the  facts 


176          THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

and  the  workingmen  as  they  were  evolved  under 
American  conditions,  he  could  hardly  be  blamed, 
since  all  economists  were  looking  towards  England 
as  the  leader  in  matters  of  industrial  and  economic 
reform.  What  the  professor  did  not  understand 
was  that  the  average  mortal  had  no  conception 
whatever  of  the  union  principle,  and  avoided  en 
lightenment  concerning  it  with  all  the  stubborn 
ness  and  density  born  of  ignorance.  Christopher 
had  more  than  once  endeavored  to  convince  him  of 
this  fact.  The  professor  seldom  came  in  contact 
with  the  average  mortal  except  in  a  state  of  tute 
lage.  Christopher,  being  a  business  man,  came  in 
contact  with  little  else ;  he  knew  whereof  he  spoke. 
The  professor  listened  patiently,  but  without  con 
viction  ;  he  could  not  believe  that  man  in  general 
was  such  a  fool.  Some  of  the  ablest  scholars 
indorsed  the  union  principle  ;  it  was  plainly  the 
only  fair  thing  under  present  conditions.  Chris 
topher  acknowledged  that  all  this  was  true,  but 
asserted  that  man  in  general  paid  no  attention  to 
the  opinions  of  scholars,  was  incapable  of  appre 
ciating  abstractions. 

"  But  some  one  has  to  translate  the  abstractions 
into  concrete  terms,  and  the  scholar  has  not  always 
the  peculiar  ability  necessary  for  this  service,"  said 
the  professor,  speaking  better  than  he  knew. 

"  Well,  you  must  acknowledge,"  answered  Chris 
topher,  "  that  some  of  the  abstractions  do  hang  fire 
a  precious  long  time." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  men  are  incapable 


A  PLAN  OF  CAMPAIGN  177 

of  listening  to  reason,  my  dear  boy  ?  Nonsense  ! 
I  am  not  a  recluse,  Christopher;  I  mingle  with 
my  kind." 

"  Your  kind  ;  yes,  professor." 

"  Then  let  us  educate  the  general  public  into  an 
appreciation  of  this  abstraction.  Here  is  this  strike, 
our  concrete  example,  ready  to  our  hand.  Let  us 
rouse  the  community  to  an  appreciation  of  the  suf 
ferings  of  these  strikers  and  a  desire  to  help  them. 
Come  now !  You  and  Agnes  are  always  complain 
ing  of  my  being  a  theorist.  Here  is  a  point  where 
I  can  join  forces  with  you.  I  really  don't  see," 

—  the  professor  paused  and  considered,  —  "I  — 
really  —  don't  see  why  those  of  us  who  are  con 
vinced  of  the  righteousness  of  this  principle  should 
not  express  our  sympathy  with  this  strike  and  do 
what  we  can  towards  making  it  a  success.    In  fact 

—  I  don't  see  but  that  it  is  our  duty  to  uphold  this 
strike.     The  question  is,  what  can  we  do  to  make 
these  men  feel  our  sympathy,  and  to  insure  their 
success." 

"  Only,  it  won't  succeed.  The  men  will  not  up 
hold  their  union." 

"  That  is  absurd,  Christopher !  When  you  and 
I  both  know  that  the  employers'  grievance  is 
always  this  loyalty  of  the  men  to  the  unions." 

"  Still,  I  know  what  I  am  talking  about.  This 
union  is  new,  weak,  demoralized  by  bad  conditions. 
It  has  very  little  money.  A  strike  needs  money  if 
it  is  to  succeed." 

Here  Philip  struck  into  the  discussion,  saying : 


178         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

"  But  if  the  professor  educates  his  community, 
won't  it  give  money  ?  " 

"  Yes,  to  be  sure,  of  course !  "  nodded  the  pro 
fessor.  "  And  people  like  to  help  in  a  definite 
way ;  they  will  understand  better ;  they  will  have 
more  sympathy,  if  they  give  support  to  these 
men." 

"  But  you  forget,"  objected  Christopher,  "  that 
this  community  of  which  we  talk  is  made  up  of  in 
dividuals,  who  are  engaged  in  upholding  this  very 
competitive  system  which  we  deplore,  —  or  else 
they  are  half-baked  philanthropists,  like  Watson, 
devoid  of  democratic  instincts." 

"  But  these  people  are  not  idiots,  my  dear  Chris 
topher,"  interrupted  the  professor.  "I  begin  to 
think  that  your  constant  association  with  working- 
men  and  uneducated  members  of  society  is  leading 
you  to  undervalue  the  intelligence  of  your  own 
class.  Business  men  will  listen  to  reason." 

"Not  where  their  pockets  are  concerned,  pro 
fessor." 

"  Chris  is  incorrigible,"  laughed  Philip.  "  See 
here,  old  fellow,  there  's  no  harm  in  having  a  try 
at  this  thing,  is  there  ?  " 

"  Then  there 's  Watson  himself,"  continued 
Christopher,  without  stopping  to  answer  his 
friend.  "  Even  if  you  carry  your  community  with 
you  as  to  principle,  even  if  you  get  money  enough 
to  enable  the  strikers  to  stay  out  a  few  weeks, 
Watson 's  got  the  whip  hand.  There  he  is,  with 
a  great  factory  on  the  outskirts  of  a  great  city, 


A  PLAN  OF  CAMPAIGN  179 

where  he  can,  and  does,  take  in  all  the  riffraff 
and  tramp  labor  that 's  out  of  a  job.  He  can  get 
all  the  men  he  wants  at  his  own  terms.  What 
they  waste  by  spoiling  work  in  learning  the  trade, 
he  gets  out  of  them  through  low  wages  and  dock 
ing.  He  gives  them  enough  to  keep  them  always 
in  debt  and  just  on  the  verge  of  starvation.  When 
they  get  desperate,  they  go  on  the  tramp.  The 
wonder  to  me  is,  how  a  union  was  ever  worked  up 
in  such  a  place." 

"  And  again  I  say  educate  !  "  persisted  the  pro 
fessor.  "  Educate  the  people  not  to  buy  shoes 
made  under  such  evil  conditions.  Educate  them 
to  recognize  the  evils  of  such  a  shop.  After  all, 
my  dear  boy,  if  the  strike,  materially,  should  fail, 
I  still  think  we  should  regard  this  as  an  oppor 
tunity  not  to  be  missed.  There  may  be  a  moral 
victory  even  where  there  is  material  defeat.  And 
to  have  brought  the  workingman  and  the  educated 
man  into  closer  spiritual  and  intellectual  sympathy, 
to  have  shown  them  that  they  are  parts  of  one  great 
social  system,  and  dependent  upon  each  other,  to 
have  broken  down,  to  some  extent,  this  barrier  of 
distrust  which  now  exists  between  the  classes,  — 
this  would  be  worth  our  effort,  even  though  the 
strike  itself  should  fail." 

"  Indeed,  yes  !  "  cried  Philip.  "  I  agree  with 
you  thoroughly,  professor." 

"  If  you  don't  rather  succeed  in  alienating  them 
still  more,"  Christopher  added ;  and  then,  "  It 's 
bad  enough  to  look  on  and  see  the  workingman 


180         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

exploited  for  the  material  benefit  of  society,  but  it 
would  be  worse  to  have  him  exploited  for  society's 
intellectual  and  spiritual  benefit  as  well,  by  using 
him  to  point  a  moral  and  adorn  a  tale." 

"  Then  you  would  have  us  let  this  strike  go  on, 
fail,  bring  prices  a  little  lower ;  you  would  have  us 
let  a  drowning  man  go  down  while  we  sit  on  the 
shore  and  do  not  turn  a  hand  to  assist  him  ?  "  said 
Philip  sternly. 

"I  don't  see  the  use  of  your  going  into  the 
water  after  him,  if  you  can't  swim  yourself." 

"  But  if  we  can  swim  a  little  ?  "  said  the  pro 
fessor. 

Christopher  was  looking  into  Philip's  face  with 
a  sad  smile. 

"  I  suppose  I  am  only  talking,"  he  said.  "  Of 
course  I  want  them  to  be  helped ;  it  is  very  much 
to  my  advantage  to  have  them  succeed.  But  I  'in 
so  tired  of  patching.  The  whole  system  has  got 
to  be  changed  before  we  've  any  fair  chance  of 
success.  Competition  is  at  the  root  of  the  mis 
chief." 

"  Meanwhile,"  Philip  smiled,  laying  his  two 
hands  on  his  friend's  shoulders,  "  you  '11  show  us 
where  to  put  this  patch." 

"  Now,  my  idea  is  this,"  the  professor  began  hur 
riedly  :  "  Suppose  we  send  out  a  small  circular 
explaining  the  situation  to  those  .people  of  whose 
sympathy  we  can  be  fairly  sure."  He  named 
over  a  number  of  college  professors,  a  couple  of 
city  lawyers,  three  or  four  clergymen,  and  some 


A  PLAN  OF  CAMPAIGN  181 

twenty  philanthropists  and  public-spirited  people 
of  both  sexes.  "  Ask  each  one  of  these  to  bring 
an  intelligent  friend.  We  can  have  one  of  the 
large  college  class-rooms,  and  we  can  there  discuss 
ways  and  means  of  attack.  How  does  this  appeal 
to  you?" 

"  Admirable !  "  said  Philip. 

"You  would  like  me  to  speak  about  it  to  the 
heads  of  the  union,  to  some  of  the  leading  labor 
men,  no  doubt  ?  "  Christopher  suggested. 

"  Yes  ! "  assented  the  professor.  "  That  had  n't 
occurred  to  me,  but  it  would  be  a  very  good  plan. 
Yes  "  —  after  a  meditative  pause  —  "  do  so  !  " 

"  Would  it  not  be  well  to  inform  them  of  the 
meeting,  and  ask  them  to  be  present?"  queried 
Philip. 

"I  —  I  question  it."  The  professor  spoke  with 
hesitation.  "  At  this  first  meeting  might  it  not 
be  just  as  well  to  be  to  ourselves?  We  shall 
discuss  the  situation  with  more  freedom  —  we 
shall"  — 

"  One  of  the  reasons  for  assisting  in  this  strike 
is  to  promote  confidence  between  the  workingman 
and  the  more  privileged,  I  believe,"  commented 
Christopher. 

"  Well,  —  if  you  advise  it,"  —  said  the  pro 
fessor.  "  You  know  the  workingman  better  than 
I  do.  Personally,  I  should  doubt  the  wisdom  of  it 
just  at  this  juncture." 

"  I  agree  with  Chris,  professor,"  said  Philip. 
"  The  labor  men  have  a  right  to  know  what  we  are 


182         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

about.  If  we  start  fair  with  them  and  give  them 
our  confidence  from  the  beginning,  it  will  make  all 
the  difference  in  the  world.  Moreover,  it  is  their 
strike,  not  ours ;  they  are  the  ones  who  are  run 
ning  it.  We  must  to  a  certain  extent  put  our 
selves  under  their  guidance." 

"  To  be  sure  —  to  be  sure,"  the  professor  has 
tened  to  acquiesce.  "  Yes  —  true ;  you  are  right. 
It  had  n't  occurred  to  me."  He  spoke  in  a  kind 
of  muse,  as  if  he  were  being  hurried  into  convic 
tion  faster  than  he  wanted  to  be,  and  were  looking 
backward  at  his  thoughts.  "  You  will  stay  to 
luncheon  with  us,  Philip,  and  we  can  decide  on 
the  plan  of  the  circular  at  table." 

"  I  must  go  in  town  immediately  after  lunch," 
said  Christopher.  "  This  news  puts  a  different 
aspect  on  some  of  my  business.  I  '11  take  the  cir 
cular  in  to  the  printer's.  There  's  nothing  like 
promptitude  in  a  case  of  this  kind.  Half  the 
strikes  are  lost  by  nothing  in  the  world  but  de 
lay.  And  "  —  he  turned  to  his  father-in-law  with 
vigor  and  decision  in  his  tones  —  "if  you  really 
wish  to  help  in  this  thing,  I  believe  you  can  make 
it  a  success.  You  can  be  of  service  if  you  hammer 
at  the  community,  and  bring  Peter  Watson  and 
his  shoes  and  his  methods  into  disfavor.  Make 
the  public  come  down  on  him,  and  he  '11  have  to 
draw  in  his  horns.  The  public,  the  community, 
can  force  him  to  take  down  those  notices  and  re 
instate  his  men  on  a  just  scale  of  wages,  if  it  will. 
The  community  can  always  force  an  individual  to 


A  PLAN  OF  CAMPAIGN  183 

do  right,  but  it  never  is  interested  enough  in  real 
issues  to  try.  You  rouse  the  community,  and  Wat 
son  's  done  for.  But  you  and  I,  and  a  handful  of 
lukewarm  amateurs,  all  pulling  in  different  direc 
tions  and  with  different  degrees  of  conscientious 
ness,  can't  move  the  man  an  inch  out  of  his  course. 
Don't  think  me  ill  natured !  I  thank  you  for  your 
sympathy  in  this  matter.  I  wish  all  men's  motives 
were  as  noble  as  yours  always  are,  professor." 

"  Now  you  're  talking !  '  Ye  have  not  yet  re 
sisted  unto  blood,  striving  against  sin,' "  exclaimed 
Philip.  "  Such  a  grumbling  old  pessimist  as  you 
are  getting  to  be,  Chris  !  " 

"  I  'm  not  a  pessimist,  I  'm  only  a  disillusioned 
optimist,"  said  Christopher. 

"  But  stiU  an  optimist?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  !  once  and  forever !  "  He  said  it 
with  a  half  smile,  and  his  eyes  dwelt  upon  his 
friend's  face  curiously,  as  if  he  saw  something 
there  which  he  himself  had  lost,  and  which  he 
grieved  to  lose. 

"  Of  course,  I  shall  not  venture  to  lean  only 
on  theory  in  dealing  with  this  strike,"  mused  the 
professor.  "  I  owe  it  to  the  community  to  under 
stand  the  particular  conditions  I  must  investigate. 
I  may  find  that  this  strike  is  not  a  good  concrete 
example  of  the  upholding  of  the  principle.  I  don't 
anticipate  any  such  result,  but  I  owe  it  to  the 
community  to  be  unbiased." 

Then  the  maid  came  in  to  say  that  luncheon  was 
served. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  JESUITICAL  CALVINIST 

ONE  day,  about  three  weeks  after  the  announce 
ment  of  the  strike  in  Mr.  Watson's  shops,  Jeanie 
Casey  came  to  Agnes  and  said  :  — 

"  I  have  been  grieving  to  tell  you,  and  the  sinful 
pride  would  not  let  me  speak.  But  now  I  will. 
But  you  must  n't  be  thinking  how  that  I  would  n't 
do  the  same  to-morrow  if  it  was  to  do,  —  for  I 
would.  There  is  no  repentance  in  me.  But  I 
must  be  telling  somebody.  I  must." 

Agnes  put  her  into  an  easy  chair  and  took  away 
her  hat  and  jacket  and  kissed  her.  Jeanie  had 
grown  thin  ;  the  large  simplicity  of  her  gaze  was 
gone;  she  looked  at  Agnes  straight  and  square, 
but  with  sternness,  and  there  was  a  curious  rigid 
ity  about  her  mouth. 

"  She  is  like  the  pictures  of  the  old  covenanters," 
thought  Agnes,  "  and  perhaps  I  am  to  blame." 
Aloud  she  said:  "I've  tried  to  see  you,  Jeanie, 
ever  since  the  strike  began,  but  you  were  always 
in  town,  or  away  somewhere  getting  money ;  and 
this  week  we  thought  Christopher  was  going  to 
have  the  measles,  but  he  did  n't." 

"  I  left  little  Jean  with  him  in  the  garden,"  said 


THE  JESUITICAL  CALVINIST  185 

Jeanie,  and  then  she  folded  her  hands  and  sat  still 
in  the  great  chair,  and  lost  herself  in  her  thoughts. 

"  Tell  me  how  you  ever  persuaded  them  to 
organize,"  said  Agnes,  after  a  few  moments  of 
silence.  "  It  seemed  such  an  impossible  task." 

"  For  a  long  time  I  'd  no  hope,"  Jeanie  replied. 
"  They  were  but  staring  loons  in  the  beginning ; 
but  there  were  some  with  husbands,  and  these  got 
into  the  way  of  talking  with  them,  and  of  a  sud 
den,  whether  I  would  have  it  or  no,  the  thing 
spread ;  and  after  a  bit  it  rolled  up  like  a  snow 
ball,  verra  fast,  —  too  fast.  And  out  of  my  hand 
it  was ;  and  I,  there,  feeling  it  to  slip,  and  could 
not  stop  it.  Here  in  Kenyon  a  woman  will  have 
a  bit  time  of  her  own  for  the  thinking,  —  but 
there  !  —  And  if  there  's  no  thinking  there  '11  be 
no  doing  ;  —  or  there  '11  be  just  blind  crazy  doing." 

"  How  do  you  mean  ?  "  said  Agnes  uneasily ; 
"  don't  you  approve  of  this  strike  ?  " 

"  Ay  !  "  —  of  this  strike  ;  but  that 's  a  verra 
different  matter." 

"  I  don't  understand." 

"  There  was  a  cut-down ;  and  the  stitchers  were 
fierce  to  go  out  for  a  rise.  The  terrible  thing  it 
is,  Mrs.  Kenyon,  to  feel  the  people  slip  out  from 
the  power  of  you,  and  take  their  own  way.  To 
hold  your  hand  out  in  a  torrent  and  think  to  hold 
the  water  back,  and  feel  it  over-slip  the  grasp  of 
you,  and  never  stop  for  you,  nor  take  notice  of  you 
that  your  hand  is  there.  That  is  it !  But  the 
Lord  had  an  eye  to  his  poor.  He  turned  the  tor- 


186         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

rent  another  way.  And  to  me  he  showed  a  mercy 
that  I  am  not  deserving ;  for  it  is  a  verra  sinful 
woman  that  I  am,  —  verra  sinful." 

She  fell  into  a  reverie  again  and  said  nothing 
for  a  long  while.  At  last  Agnes  touched  her  hand. 

"You  said  you  were  going  to  tell  me,  Jeanie." 

"  Yes !  —  I  must  be  telling  somebody." 

The  voices  of  the  children  came  up  from  the 
garden.  There  was  shouting,  and  then :  — 

"  Stop,  Chrissie !  —  You  hurt !     Stop  ! " 

Agnes  went  to  the  window  and  threw  it  open. 
Her  son  was  hauling  an  unwilling  little  maiden 
across  the  snow. 

"  Chris !  —  Chris  !  —  What  are  you  doing  ? 
Don't  be  rude !  Remember  she  is  a  little  girl." 

"  We  're  playing  strike,  mother,  and  she's  a  scab, 
and  I  'm  just  giving  it  to  her.  Come  away,  you 
mean  old  traitor  you,  I  '11  teach  you  to  take  the 
bread  out  of  my  children's  mouths  !  " 

"  Don't  you  think  you  would  better  play  some 
thing  that  is  n't  quite  so  rough  ?  "  suggested  Agnes. 

"  I  don't  want  to  be  a  'cab  all  the  time,"  pro 
tested  little  Jeanie  ;  "  it 's  your  turn  now." 

"  I  'm  not  going  to  be  a  scab  ever,  even  play 
ing,"  Christopher  cried ;  and  Agnes  closed  the 
window  and  left  them  to  settle  the  matter  as  best 
they  could. 

Jeanie  did  not  seem  to  have  heard  the  contro 
versy,  but  when  her  hostess  came  and  sat  down  be 
side  her,  she  gathered  her  thoughts  together  with 
an  evident  effort,  and  began  :  — 


THE  JESUITICAL  CALVINIST  187 

"  It 's  neither  here  nor  there  with  this  strike, 
what  I  'm  telling  you  now ;  it  can  mak'  no  differ 
ence  one  way  or  another  way  to  that.  It's  just 
for  my  own  self,  and  that  I'm  sore  wanting  a 
friend." 

Agnes  felt  a  sense  of  relief,  for  which  she  re 
proached  herself.  She  had  been  dreading  some 
revelation  which  should  prejudice  the  public  against 
the  strikers. 

"  Tell  me,  dear !  "  she  whispered,  stroking  Jea- 
nie's  hand. 

"  There  was  a  day,  some  while  back,  —  and  the 
forewoman  that  had  left  the  shop  cam'  in  again  to 
work.  The  week  before  that  there  was  the  cut- 
down.  The  woman  was  a  meddling  body,  but  she 
meant  it  for  her  duty.  She  was  a  cruel  woman, 
but  God-fearing.  Far  be  it  fra'  such  a  weak  ves 
sel  as  I  to  detract  fra'  her.  They  lie  in  that  shop, 
Mrs.  Kenyon,  and  they  tak'  what  does  not  belong 
to  them,  and  they  're  aye  at  strife  one  with  another. 
A  heart-breaking  place  it  is.  The  forewoman  took 
notice  of  me  that  day  for  my  good  quick  work. 
And  so  she  saw  the  other  women,  how  they  cam' 
talking  to  me,  for  they  were  angry  with  the  cut- 
down,  —  and  she  did  but  rub  them  on  the  raw 
places,  so  they  were  mad  against  her,  and  crazy  for 
the  strike.  There  was  not  a  woman  cam'  by  my 
chair  but  did  not  stop  to  complain,  railing  against 
Annie  Curry,  the  forewoman,  and  demanding  the 
strike.  Then  Annie  Curry  cam'  beside  me  and 
said,  '  Where  is  it  that  I've  seen  you?'  and  I  said 


188         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

4 1  don't  know ; '  —  it  was  true,  —  I  did  n't  know. 
Then  she  said  to  me,  '  Have  you  ever  worked  in 
the  Kenyon  shops?"  and  I  said,  'No,  I  never 
have." 

"Jeanie!" 

The  Scotchwoman  lifted  her  head  and  looked 
sternly  at  her  friend. 

"  For  four  months  I  had  worked  among  these 
women,  Mrs.  Kenyon,  early  and  late,  to  lead  them 
out  of  the  land  of  Egypt,  to  learn  them  the  only 
way  to  stand  out  for  their  bit  bread,  —  when  the 
master  cuts  and  cuts  and  cuts  into  the  wages. 
And  they  were  beginning  to  understand.  If  I  'd 
left  them  then,  —  all  that  I  'd  been  at  would  have 
gone  for  naught.  They  'd  have  rioted  a  bit,  and 
been  brought  low,  and  crowded  under  to  worse 
blackness  and  worse  hunger.  They  were  n't  fit  to 
stand  alone,  —  and  do  you  think  I  'd  leave  them 
then,  just  to  the  saving  of  my  one  soul  ?  I  'm 
thinking,  anyway,  the  Lord  wouldn't  have  great 
need  of  a  soul  that  could  desert  his  poor  down-trod 
den  ones  in  their  straits.  I  'm  thinking  the  Lord 
will  not  be  hard  on  me  for  that  lie,  Mrs.  Kenyon." 

Agnes  realized  what  a  pale,  untried  morality 
was  hers,  in  her  sheltered  life.  To  remonstrate 
with  this  burdened  sister  seemed  impertinence. 

"  But  if  the  people  who  are  trying  to  help  this 
strike  should  find  that  the  strikers  were  —  did 
—  that  sometimes  they  said  what  was  n't  quite 
straight,"  she  faltered,  "  I  am  afraid  they  might 
lose  sympathy." 


THE  JESUITICAL  CALVINIST  189 

"  And  how  many  times,  tell  me,  Mrs.  Kenyon, 
has  that  old  man  lied  to  his  workers,  or  made  his 
superintendent  lie  to  them,  or  made  Annie  Curry 
lie  to  them  ?  Ah,  if  the  people  beant  brought  up 
on  lies  by  the  ones  that  pretend  to  be  standing  for 
a  model  to  them,  do  you  think  they  would  n't  be 
ashamed  to  lie  ?  But  it 's  give  a  lie  and  tak'  a 
lie,  till  the  truth  's  overlaid  so  deep,  there  's  no 
man  can  come  at  it  even  with  a  pickaxe." 

"  I  know,  it  is  our  fault,"  said  Agnes  sadly. 

"But  don't  go  to  fash  yourself  about  this  lie, 
now,  Mrs.  Kenyon.  It  has  not  a  thing  to  do  with 
the  strike.  The  Lord  turned  the  torrent.  Those 
women  with  their  overweening  recklessness  made 
Annie  Curry  suspicious  of  trade  union  talk ;  and 
you  '11  be  knowing  as  how  that  Mr.  Watson  boasts 
him  that  he  had  always  a  free  shop.  And  he 
put  up  the  notices,  —  and  we  all  cam'  out.  The 
women  are  doing  bravely.  They  '11  stick  to  it 
better  than  the  men,  now  they  have  come  to  it." 

"  You  think,  then,  that  a  lie  is  justifiable,  some 
times  ?  "  questioned  Agnes.  She  was  troubled. 

"  I  don't  know  that.  But  this  I  know,  that  the 
Lord  will  be  waiting  to  the  Judgment  Day  to  say 
to  me,  *  Jeanie,'  will  He  say,  *  Jeanie,  I  thank  you 
verra  kindly  for  that  lie.'  " 

Agnes  gasped. 

Her  friend's  eyes  blazed. 

"  If  that  woman  had  cam'  to  you,"  she  cried, 
"  and  asked  of  you  in  my  place  the  question,  — 
and  all  those  poor  things  with  but  you  to  look  to, 


190         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

and  only  halfway  to  knowing  how  to  get  out  from 
their  slavery,  would  you  have  said  yes,  and  let 
them  turn  you  out  ?  Could  you  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Agnes  slowly.  "  No,  —  I  —  oh,  I 
know  I  should  have  told  the  lie.  But  it 's  wrong. 
We  don't  know  the  ways  of  God,  Jeanie  ;  they  are 
not  our  ways.  He  could  bring  success,  you  know, 
even  if  we  could  not  see  how  it  was  to  come." 

"  But  if  it 's  a  mistake  I  've  made,  oh,  Mrs. 
Kenyon !  The  Lord  could  have  showed  me  another 
way,  if  it  had  been  His  will  so  to  do.  And  if  it 
was  all  to  be  done  over  again,  I  'd  be  saying  the 
same  words.  There  's  no  helping  it." 

"  I  know  —  I  understand,"  Agnes  whispered 
soothingly. 

"I  couldn't  tell  Jimmie,  Mrs.  Kenyon.  And 
the  nights  I  lie  awake  with  thinking  on  it,  till  my 
thoughts  go  a-ring-around,  dizzy.  And  it 's  sick 
ened  I  am  to  the  sight  of  food.  I  had  to  come 
speak  with  you,  to  share  it.  But  don't  be  troubled 
for  the  strike,  —  this  strike,  —  there  is  nothing  the 
lie  would  have  to  do  with  that." 

"  I  hope  not,"  Agnes  said.  But  she  thought  of 
her  father,  with  his  passion  for  accuracy,  for  moral 
purity,  his  instinctive  distrust  of  the  workingman, 
and  her  heart  sank. 

The  professor  had  thrown  his  whole  mind,  for 
the  time  being,  into  this  strike,  and  was  applying 
to  it  those  laboratory  methods  of  investigation 
which  had  become  indispensable  to  him  in  all 
search  for  truth.  He  had  spoken  at  two  public 


THE  JESUITICAL  CALVINIST  191 

meetings  gotten  up  to  promote  interest  in  the 
strike  ;  spoken,  to  be  sure,  with  such  circumspect 
caution  as  to  rouse  the  antagonism  and  scorn  of 
all  the  labor  men  present,  but  still,  spoken,  and 
with  sufficient  appreciation  of  the  point  of  view  of 
the  strikers  to  rouse  in  his  own  sensitive  conscience 
the  question  as  to  whether  he  was  being  partial. 

"  I  must  call  the  child  and  go,"  said  Jeanie,  ris 
ing.  "  The  mother  complains  of  my  neglecting 
the  home,  and  Jeanie  and  Jamie  are  needing 
me  badly.  Good-by ;  and  I  hope  you  '11  not  be 
a-wearied  and  disheartened  the  way  I  am,  never, 
Mrs.  Kenyon." 

"  Ah,  Jeanie,  don't  you  think  I  have  my  wor 
ries  ?  Do  you  think  it  is  easy  for  Mr.  Kenyon  to 
make  his  shoe  shops  decent  places  when  all  the 
rest  of  the  world  is  cutting  down  ?  Do  you  think 
it  is  easy  for  him  to  pay  his  men  the  wages 
he  does,  when  all  his  competitors  are  underselling 
him  ?  "  She  stopped.  She  had  not  meant  to  speak 
of  her  own  trouble. 

"  I  know,  —  Jimmie  was  saying  the  other 
night "  —  Here  Jeanie  also  stopped. 

"  What  was  Jimmie  saying  ?  " 

"  Oh,  nothing  much.  He  is  not  one  to  meddle 
with  what  is  not  his  affair.  But  I  know  he  was 
saying  it  was  a  hard  time  for  all,  and  he  did  n't 
see  how  Mr.  Kenyon  stood  up  against  the  competi 
tion.  I  told  him  't  was  an  easy  thing  to  see,  —  that 
he  stood  by  the  grace  of  God.  There 's  nothing 
else  but  that,  by  which  any  one  of  us  can  stand." 


192          THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

After  she  had  gone,  Agnes  sat  by  the  window 
thinking,  till  little  Christopher  came  in  from  his 
play  and  clambered  into  her  lap.  He  was  still 
feeling  the  effects  of  his  slight  illness  of  the  early 
part  of  the  week,  and  had  trying  times  of  languor 
and  irritability. 

"  What  are  you  doing,  mother  ?  " 

"  Thinking,  my  darling  !  " 

"  What  about  ?     The  strike  ?  " 

Agnes  smiled.     "  Yes,  the  strike." 

"  Everybody  's  thinking  about  the  strike, 
mother.  I  think  about  it  a  great  deal." 

"  Do  you  ?  "  She  smiled  again  and  drew  his 
face  close  to  hers,  looking  quizzically  into  his 
eyes. 

"  Yes  !  Little  Jeanie  says  her  father  says  what 
they  need  is  less  talk  and  more  money." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  he  is  right.  But  come ;  I 
know  a  little  boy  who  has  n't  done  any  lessons  for 
three  days.  How  will  he  ever  get  to  college  at  this 
rate?" 

Christopher  ignored  this  question,  and  pro 
pounded  one  of  his  own. 

"  Mother,  why  does  n't  father  give  them  all  the 
money  they  want  ?  " 

"  Because  father  has  n't  enough  money  to  go 
round.  He  has  to  pay  the  men  who  work  for 
him." 

"  I  Ve  got  four  dollars.  Can't  I  give  that  ? 
Would  n't  it  buy  bread  *  to  put  into  their  chil 
dren's  mouths '  ?  " 


THE  JESUITICAL  CALVINIST  193 

"  Suppose  you  get  your  slate  and  see  how  much 
bread  it  would  buy." 

"  And  I  can  give  it,  can't  I  ?  " 

"  Yes,  if  you  wish  to." 

He  cantered  across  the  room  and  brought  his 
slate  from  a  table ;  then  drew  a  hassock  close  to 
his  mother's  feet  and  sat  down. 

"  Now,"  Agnes  began,  "  you  have  four  dollars. 
Let  us  see  how  much  bread  that  would  buy.  What 
does  a  loaf  of  bread  cost  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  Well,  suppose  a  loaf  costs  ten  cents,  how  many 
could  you  get  for  your  four  dollars  ?  " 

He  chewed  his  slate  pencil  for  a  minute  and 
then  began  to  figure.  After  a  short  time  he  looked 
up  suspiciously  and  said :  — 

"  This  is  lessons  !  " 

"  Why,  so  it  is !  "  replied  his  mother  with  ad 
mirable  composure  ;  "  but  it  is  quite  interesting, 
don't  you  think  so  ?  " 

He  grunted  and  chewed  his  pencil. 

"  You  know  you  have  n't  finished  yet ;  you  will 
want  to  find  out  how  many  people  all  those  loaves 
of  bread  will  feed." 

"I  could  eat  a  whole  loaf  of  bread  at  one  time!  " 
he  exclaimed  in  scorn. 

"  Then  you  would  be  a  little  pig ;  and  in  a  strike 
you  could  n't  be  allowed  to  be  a  little  pig,  you 
know." 

He  bent  over  his  slate  with  renewed  interest, 
and  Agnes  had  no  more  trouble  about  lessons. 


194         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

When  the  elder  Christopher  came  home  to  din 
ner  and  heard  the  tale,  and  had  the  slate  presented 
to  him  that  he  might  admire  the  sum,  there  was  a 
twist  of  irony  in  his  smile  as  he  said  :  — 

"  Yes,  we  're  all  using  the  strike  for  educational 
purposes." 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  INTERIM 

IT  was  a  long  strike,  —  so  long  that  after  awhile 
the  community  began  to  look  dazed  when  it  was 
mentioned,  and  to  say,  "Oh,  is  that  thing  still 
going  on  ?  "  This,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that 
the  professor,  during  all  this  time,  talked  of  little 
else.  But  the  professor's  audience  was  necessarily 
limited. 

In  the  beginning,  acted  upon  by  the  novelty  of 
dealing  with  a  reality,  he  kindled,  and  became 
almost  precipitate  in  his  desire  to  champion  the 
cause  of  the  oppressed.  If  he  was  too  old  to  see 
visions,  his  dilated  eyes,  his  fervid  rhetoric,  pro 
claimed  that  at  least  he  dreamed  dreams.  Just 
what  he  expected  his  aroused  community  to  do 
for  the  strikers  was  never  definitely  formulated ; 
something  in  the  nature  of  a  bloodless  industrial 
revolution,  perhaps.  Be  that  as  it  may,  the  dream 
was  but  a  dream,  the  occasion  never  ripened,  the 
professor  never  dared  to  arouse  his  community. 
He  never  got  through  weighing  evidence.  After 
the  first  flush  of  contact  with  life  had  faded,  after 
he  had  attended  a  few  labor  meetings,  as  a  specta 
tor,  —  for  even  in  this  period  of  spontaneity  his 


196         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

enthusiasm  did  not  betray  him  into  sitting  on  a 
strikers'  platform,  —  after  he  had  heard  one  or 
two  labor  agitators,  he  experienced  a  revulsion 
from  the  actual.  The  horny  hand  of  toil  irritated 
his  sensitive  scholar's  palm.  The  florid  oratory, 
the  impossible  English,  the  uncertain  logic,  and 
the  bad  taste  —  more  than  all  else,  the  bad  taste 
—  of  these  people  whom,  in  theory,  he  had  come 
to  regard  as  martyrs  of  society,  aroused  the  pro 
fessor's  intellectual  distrust,  that  most  alert  faculty 
of  his  scholastic  mind.  Ought  a  people  who  were 
such  bad  dialecticians  to  be  trusted  to  think  for 
themselves  ?  This  dumbness  of  the  dispossessed, 
this  chaos  of  sound  which  they  emitted,  exasper 
ated  the  fluent  professor ;  they  could  not  explain 
themselves.  In  the  class-room  Professor  Gillespie 
always  distrusted  those  students  who  could  not  ex 
plain  themselves ;  he  knew  they  had  not  studied 
their  lesson,  and  were  trying  to  impose  upon  him. 
Another  reason,  in  his  eyes,  for  distrust  of  the 
workingmen  lay  in  the  fact  that  this  strike  evaded 
tabulation.  The  professor  could  not  reduce  it  to  a 
formula ;  neither  could  he  sift  it  to  a  first  cause. 
The  very  unanimity  and  persistence  with  which 
the  men  reiterated  the  union  principle  as  the 
cause  of  the  strike,  came  to  sound  like  a  hollow 
pretense  in  the  ears  of  the  professor  after  he  had 
once  set  foot  on  this  industrial  slough  of  despond, 
and  had  begun  to  realize  into  what  a  hodge-podge 
of  animosities,  passions,  incoherent  side-issues,  and 
misunderstood  statements  he  was  about  to  sink. 


THE  INTERIM  197 

Like  Christian  in  that  other  slough,  his  one  idea, 
having  stumbled  in,  was  to  get  out  as  best  he  could 
and  save  his  soul  alive  ;  but,  like  Christian,  he  got 
in  deeper  than  he  wanted  to  before  he  got  out,  and 
he  was  sore  besmirched.  The  professor,  despite  his 
leanings,  was  not  a  child  of  the  new  era ;  his  im 
pulse  was  not  social,  his  conscience  was  not  social ; 
he  was  at  all  times  most  keenly  aware  of  his  own 
individual  soul,  and  of  the  jeopardy  in  which  it 
stood,  —  a  purely  moral  jeopardy,  quite  divorced 
from  anything  Calvinistic,  but  still  a  jeopardy. 
The  very  impetuosity  with  which  the  workingman 
plunged  into  strife,  caught  at  half  truths,  misin 
terpreted  ideas,  deterred  the  professor  from  action, 
intimidated  him.  Such  ill-considered  haste  seemed 
criminal.  In  reality  the  workingman  had  no  more 
true  power  of  initiative  than  the  professor,  but 
he  had  conviction,  which  lent  a  certain  terror  to 
his  abortive  experiments ;  and  in  general  he  cared 
more  for  his  brother's  soul  than  for  his  own.  Con 
tact  with  life  had  suggested  to  him  that  his  own 
soul  was  a  very  small  affair. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  professor  began  to 
tell  his  friends  that  his  great  fear  was  lest,  being 
carried  away  by  his  sympathy  for  the  working 
class,  he  should  be  unfair  to  the  employers.  "  They 
also  have  a  side,"  he  reminded  Philip.  He  claimed 
that  just  because  all  the  people  with  whom  he  came 
in  contact  were  in  sympathy  with  the  strikers,  — 
at  least  a  majority,  —  and  just  because,  from  an 
economic  point  of  view,  he  himself  believed  in 


198         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

trades  unions,  he  must  take  all  the  more  care  not 
to  be  prejudiced,  not  to  be  partial.  If  he  had  been 
living  on  terms  of  spiritual  fellowship  with  one 
or  more  of  the  distressed  families  involved  in  the 
strike,  if  he  had  ever  been  hungry  in  his  life,  he 
might  have  realized  that  there  was  also  immoral 
ity  in  deliberately  refraining  from  action,  on  the 
bare  possibility  that  in  a  particular  struggle  for  a 
principle  which  his  own  reason  approved,  certain 
individuals  might  be  acting  on  interested  motives, 
and  certain  events  might  not  prove  to  be  what  they 
claimed  to  be.  But  this  he  failed  to  see.  It  was 
a  question,  in  some  people's  minds  after  the  strike 
was  over,  as  to  how  far  he  had  saved  his  soul 
alive,  after  all. 

Irony  became  habitual  with  Christopher  in  these 
days.  He  railed  alternately  against  his  own  false 
position  as  an  employer  and  his  father-in-law's 
scholastic  methods,  and  he  gave  all  his  ready 
money  to  the  strikers,  —  as,  to  do  him  justice,  the 
professor  did  too.  There  came  a  strained  look 
about  Agnes'  eyes,  more  noticeable  on  Sundays 
when  her  father  and  her  husband  were  together  at 
the  Homestead,  but  evident  at  other  times  as  well, 
for  Philip  made  a  special  visit  down  to  Kenyon 
one  day  because  of  the  memory  of  that  expectant, 
worried  look. 

He  found  Agnes  and  the  boy  in  the  sitting-room, 
and  little  Christopher  greeted  his  uncle  Philip  with 
a  shout,  but  there  were  traces  of  tears  on  his 
cheeks,  and  a  certain  chair  was  standing  in  a  sus- 


THE  INTERIM  199 

picious  fashion,  with  its  face  to  the  wall,  in  what 
Agnes  called  the  disciplinary  corner  of  the  room. 

"  There  is  no  bad  news  ?  "  she  questioned,  com 
ing  to  meet  him  as  he  stood  in  the  doorway  with 
the  boy  climbing  up  his  legs. 

"  No ;  no  news,  good  or  bad,"  he  answered,  with 
an  assuring  smile.  "  I  came  down  to  have  a  look 
at  this  godson  of  mine ;  a  little  bird  tells  me  when 
he  needs  looking  after." 

Christopher  glanced  consciously  at  his  mother 
and  hung  his  head. 

"  He  has  not  been  very  well  lately,"  Agnes  said, 
with  a  smile  of  understanding,  "  and  it  makes  him 
cross  and  not  quite  so  considerate  of  other  people 
as  I  think  little  boys  ought  to  be." 

"  And  you?"  said  Philip,  turning  the  unsociable 
chair  about  and  sitting  down  in  it.  "  Have  you 
been  well  ?  " 

"  I !  Oh,  yes  ;  I  am  always  well.  I  get  a  little 
blue,  sometimes,  over  the  strike.  It  lasts  so  long 
and  we  hear  such  tales.  I  worry  about  Christo 
pher,  too  ;  he  is  taking  it  so  hard,  and  he  does  n't 
sleep  well." 

"  I  have  been  wondering,"  said  Philip  thought 
fully,  "how  it  would  do  for  you  and  the  boy  to 
get  away  somewhere  for  a  few  weeks  and  have  a 
little  change,  south  or  by  the  sea." 

Agnes  opened  her  eyes  in  amazement. 

"  And  leave  Christopher  ?  " 

Her  counselor  smiled. 

"Oh,  no,  Philip!  that  is  out  of  the  question. 


200         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

Christopher  needs  me.  And,  besides,  we  could  n't 
afford  it.  We  are  beginning  to  be  quite  poor 
people  now.  We  can't  spend  money  without  think 
ing  twice  about  it,  as  we  used  to  do.  And  the 
strike  may  fail.  I  must  be  with  Christopher  when 
the  strike  fails." 

"  It  will  make  a  difference  with  him,  I  suppose," 
Philip  said  vaguely. 

"  Yes,  a  great  difference.  You,  who  are  not  in 
business,  cannot  appreciate  how  much.  If  I  say 
anything  about  its  being  good  of  him  to  give  so 
much  towards  the  strike,  he  insists  that  he  does  it 
from  selfish  motives  and  purely  as  a  business  in 
vestment  ;  that  it  is  to  his  interest  that  the  strike 
should  win.  He  says,  Philip,  that  if  the  strike 
fails  his  own  business  will  '  go  under,'  because  he 
won't  be  able  to  compete  against  Mr.  Watson ;  and 
I,  knowing  the  business,  know  it  is  true.  No,  I 
cannot  go  away." 

"Why  doesn't  grandfather  hustle  around  and 
make  people  make  old  Pete  —  I  mean  old  Mr. 
Watson  —  treat  his  men  fair  ?  "  said  the  little  boy 
suddenly. 

"  Well,  young  man,  why  don't  you  hustle  round 
and  do  your  own  duty  faithfully,  and  help  your 
mother,  instead  of  criticising  your  elders  ?  " 

Little  Christopher  opened  his  eyes  at  his  uncle 
Philip,  and  seemed  uncertain  whether  to  laugh  or 
to  cry. 

"  Suppose  you  run  down  and  ask  aunt  Ada  to 
send  me  up  some  of  her  raspberry  shrub  and  a  few 


THE  INTERIM  201 

cookies,"  said  his  mother ;  "  and  if  you  are  very 
careful  you  may  bring  the  tray  yourself.  Don't 
spill  anything." 

Christopher  retired,  smiling  and  winking  back  a 
tear,  and  Agnes  added :  — 

"He  hears  so  much,  and  he  is  beginning  to 
have  such  a  mind  of  his  own.  I  am  afraid  it  is 
not  a  very  good  atmosphere  for  a  child." 

"  I  met  your  father  yesterday,"  Philip  began, 
"and  he  said  he  had  decided  to  seek  a  personal 
interview  with  Mr.  Watson.  He  felt  that  it  was 
indispensable  to  the  right  understanding  of  the 
strike,  and  that  the  committee  had  no  right  to  in 
volve  its  own  supporters  for  or  against  the  strikers 
until  it,  as  a  committee,  had  a  complete  under 
standing  of  the  strike.  And  he  added  that  the 
farther  he  investigated  the  more  complex  the  situ 
ation  revealed  itself  to  be." 

Agnes  looked  at  Philip  and  nodded,  but  at  his 
words,  not  at  him. 

"  Moreover,  your  father  feels  that  it  is  only  just 
to  Mr.  Watson  to  inform  him  of  what  we  are 
doing ;  for  he  would  have  a  right  to  complain  if 
action  were  taken  without  giving  him  an  opportu 
nity  to  state  his  side." 

"  Yes,"  interrupted  Agnes,  "  I  know  all  this, 
and  how  it '  would  not  be  fair  to  involve  the  people 
who  had  appointed  the  committee  in  a  mistake,' 
and  how  father,  of  course,  must  think  of  the  col 
lege  and  remember  what  he  owes  to  that,  and  not 
be  partisan.  Yes — I — you  see  I  know  all  this." 


202          THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

She  said  it  very  quietly,  but  with  a  tightening  in 
her  lips  and  a  burning  in  her  eyes. 

"  I  know  he  is  right,"  she  added  presently.  "  I 
know,  from  his  point  of  view,  he  is  right ;  he  could 
not  do  differently.  But,  meanwhile,  the  people  are 
beginning  to  starve  —  they  are  beginning  to  be 
turned  into  the  street.  Every  day  I  get  pitiful 
letters,  all  tears  and  bad  spelling,  asking  for  help ; 
calling  on  Christopher  as  the  one  hope  of  the  peo 
ple  ;  beseeching  his  wife  to  help  the  wives  and 
little  ones  of  those  who  are  suffering  from  injus 
tice.  I  wish  I  could  make  it  real  to  father,  but  I 
can't.  It  is  n't  that  he  is  not  a  kind-hearted  man, 
and  he  is  almost  always  ready  to  help  individuals ; 
but  he  cannot  get  beyond  the  appreciation  of  this 
strike  as  an  economic  problem.  I  can't  bring  it 
home  to  him  that  every  day  of  delay  in  giving 
help  means  starvation  for  people  whom  he  may 
find  innocent  in  the  end.  He  says  the  lesson  will 
be  just  as  valuable  to  the  community  whether  the 
strike  succeeds  or  not.  But  the  strikers  are  a  part 
of  the  community ;  he  does  n't  count  them  in." 

"  I  wish  your  father  could  come  into  more  favor 
able  personal  relations  with  the  workingmen,"  said 
Philip.  "They  don't  understand  him,  and  he 
does  n't  understand  them.  It  is  impossible  for 
him  to  realize  that  a  man  who  cannot  grasp  the 
point  of  a  question  when  it  is  first  put  to  him  in 
correct  English,  who  cannot  answer  without  ram 
bling  all  round  the  subject,  can  still  be  a  reasoning 
and  even  efficient  being.  Your  father  does  not 


THE  INTERIM  203 

believe  in  the  workingmen,  and  I  don't  see  how 
we  can  expect  him  to.  They  work  through  life,  he 
works  through  books.  His  intellectual  impatience 
and  intellectual  suspicion  are  inevitable." 

"Christopher  says  he  is  only  alienating  them 
more  completely.  And  father  is  such  a  scrupu 
lously  upright  man,  you  know.  He  would  be  hor 
rified  if  he  really  knew  what  he  is  doing,  but  he 
never  will  know." 

Philip  had  said  of  Agnes  in  the  early  days  of 
his  acquaintance  with  her,  "  She  is  going  to  do 
things."  And  yet,  few  women  led  a  life  more  pas 
sive,  more  receptive,  more  feminine.  The  girl  Ag 
nes  had  fretted  and  fumed  against  inactivity,  had 
ridiculed  conventionality,  had  gasped  for  freedom. 
The  woman  neither  struggled  nor  criticised  nor 
complained.  She  educated  her  little  son  patiently, 
tenderly,  and  wisely ;  ordered  her  husband's  house 
hold  with  minute  and  rigid  economy ;  was  assiduous 
in  her  devotion  to  the  improvement  of  the  village, 
and  read  and  studied  and  meditated  without  inter 
mission.  It  was  a  shut-in  life,  calm  to  the  verge 
of  repression,  —  the  life  of  a  strong-willed  woman 
who  dominated  her  own  impatience  of  tempera 
ment,  and  did  not  "  do  things  "  because  she  would 
not,  which  was  the  f orcef ullest  of  doing  after  all. 
If  Christopher's  wife  said  little,  it  was  not  be 
cause  she  was  oblivious  of  what  went  on  around 
her.  She  knew  much.  She  knew  that  something 
was  going  wrong  at  the  shops.  This  was  her  keen 
est  and  her  ever-present  knowledge.  What  this 


204         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

something  might  be  she  told  herself  coldly  that 
she  was  not  capable  of  divining.  At  times  she 
even  denied  to  herself  the  possibility  of  anything 
being  wrong  ;  but  the  denial  did  not  affect  the  cer 
tainty  of  her  knowledge.  During  the  three  years 
that  she  carried  this  certainty  on  her  heart,  Agnes 
gained  rapidly  in  power  of  self-control.  Love  for 
Christopher  was  at  the  bottom  of  it  all,  —  her 
knowledge,  her  denial,  her  silence,  and  her  con 
stant  expectation  that  he  would  speak  to  her  of 
this  thing  that  troubled  him. 

Agnes  knew,  also,  by  this  time,  that  her  father 
was  not  a  great  man ;  she  even  guessed  that  he 
was  a  moderately  small  one.  On  these  points  she 
was  more  frank  with  herself  than  on  that  other 
suppressed  certainty,  but  she  was  not  the  less 
silent  to  the  world.  Agnes'  loyalty  was  as  great 
as  her  force  of  will,  and  closely  akin  to  it.  She 
might  speak  to  Philip  of  her  sorrow  at  her  father's 
inability  to  sympathize  with  the  working  people,  but 
to  no  one,  not  even  to  her  husband,  could  she  con 
fess  her  discovery  that  her  father  was  not  a  leader 
in  action,  and  that  he  was  ceasing  to  be  a  leader  in 
thought.  This  spectacle  of  the  professor  adjust 
ing  his  spyglass  on  the  hills  of  old  fogydom  was 
intensely  painful  to  his  daughter.  She  could  not 
deceive  herself  into  the  belief  that  his  was  the 
conservatism  of  age  rather  than  of  temperament ; 
for  her  relentless  intelligence  told  her  that  he  was 
still  not  far  beyond  the  prime  of  life,  and  in 
stances  of  previous  indecisions  thrust  themselves 


THE  INTERIM  205 

upon  her  memory  whether  she  would  or  no.  She 
was  very  tender  with  her  father,  very  patient  and 
respectful  under  the  laborious  didacticism  which 
carried  in  it  a  suggestion  of  fault-finding,  for  she 
knew  that  there  was  disappointment  on  his  side  as 
well  as  on  hers.  His  constant  fortifying  of  his  po 
sition  when  he  talked  with  her,  hurt  her  more  than 
unconscious  arrogance  would  have  done.  On  the 
other  hand,  she  would  have  been  less  patient,  less 
respectful,  if  she  had  trusted  his  judgment,  and 
he  knew  it.  Once  only,  in  these  harassing  months, 
did  she  flash  out  upon  him,  and  that  was  when  he 
had  found  fault  with  Christopher's  attitude  and 
methods. 

"Christopher  cannot  afford  to  wait.  He  has 
his  men  to  consider.  Life  is  a  doing,  father,  not 
just  a  thinking.  And  you  know  I  'm  not  afraid 
of  failing.  We  live  by  the  example  of  a  Failure." 

When  Agnes  allowed  her  Christianity  to  shine 
through  her  ethics,  the  professor  invariably  re 
plied  :  — 

"  My  dear,  we  are  arguing  on  different  planes," 
and  changed  the  subject. 

He  had  taken  a  sentimental  pride  in  his  daugh 
ter's  callow  agnosticism,  and  her  reversion  to  faith 
could  not  fail  to  disappoint  him ;  he  had  never 
ceased  to  be  irritated  by  her  assertion  that  she 
grasped  her  religion  with  her  intellect  as  well  as 
with  her  emotions.  She  was  always  reticent  with 
regard  to  this  inner  meaning  of  life  which  had 
come  to  sustain  her  when  the  new  bewilderment 


206         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

of  her  love  for  Christopher  made  the  reality  of 
the  Eternal  a  spiritual  necessity  for  her.  But  she 
was  characteristically  steadfast.  Philip  was  con 
tinually  surprised  by  the  strength  and  depth  of 
her  conviction,  as  it  was  revealed  to  him  in  the 
mirror  of  her  boy's  mind. 

"  There,  I  never  spilt  a  single  drop ! "  said  a 
triumphant  voice  in  the  doorway,  "  and  the  cook 
ies  are  a  new  batch ;  they  're  hot." 

Neither  Agnes  nor  Philip  made  any  further 
allusion  to  the  professor ;  instead,  Philip  returned 
to  the  subject  with  which  he  had  opened  his  visit. 

"  If  you  are  not  able  to  go  away  yourself,  how 
would  it  do  to  give  this  young  man  a  change  of 
scene  ?  " 

Little  Christopher  glanced  from  his  uncle  to  his 
mother  and  back  again  to  his  uncle,  cocking  his 
head  expectantly  and  nibbling  his  cookie. 

"  Would  you  be  willing  to  trust  him  to  me  for 
a  while  ?  I  'd  be  very  careful.  And  I  think  it 's 
about  time  I  began  to  try  my  hand  at  him,  don't 
you  ?  Will  you  come,  Christopher  ?  " 

"  To  be  in  the  rectory  alone  with  you  ? "  ex 
claimed  the  child,  amazement  and  delight  strug 
gling  in  his  voice. 

"Well,  not  quite  alone,  you  know;  there's 
Mollie,  the  cook,  and  Charlie,  who  keeps  me  tidy, 
and  there 's  that  monstrous  great  cat." 

"  And  may  I  light  the  altar  candles  and  wear 
a  little  black  cassock  all  the  time  ?  " 


THE  INTERIM  207 

Philip  burst  out  laughing.  "That  depends," 
he  said.  "  Will  you  come  ?  " 

Christopher  paused,  and  then  said  slowly,  eying 
his  uncle :  — 

"  What  would  you  do  if  —  if  little  boys  are  n't 
as  considerate  of  other  people  as  mother  thinks 
they  ought  to  be  ?  " 

Philip  performed  a  suggestive  pantomime  upon 
his  knees  and  asked  again  :  — 

"  Will  you  come  ?  " 

To  his  surprise  the  little  boy  held  out  his  hand 
confidingly  and  said :  — 

"  Yes,  if  mother  '11  let  me." 

Philip  put  his  arm  around  the  child  and  drew 
him  between  his  knees. 

"  You  '11  lend  him  to  me  ?  "  he  said  to  Agnes. 
"I  can  give  him  change  of  scene.  He  needs  a 
change.  You  know,  mother,  this  boy  of  ours  is 
our  great  hope :  he  has  got  to  deliver  the  world 
frprn  our  mistakes;  he  has  got  to  comfort  the 
world  after  our  failures ;  he  has  got  to  redeem  the 
world  from  our  sins.  That 's  why  he 's  living  to 
day  ;  that 's  why  all  boys  are  living,  —  to  do  bet 
ter  than  their  fathers  did." 

Christopher's  eyes  were  fixed  intently  on  his 
uncle's  face. 

"  I  don't  think  I  could  ever  do  better  than  my 
father  does,"  he  said  in  a  slow  inward  voice,  never 
moving  his  eyes.  "  My  father  is  like  St.  Christo 
pher,  —  he 's  carrying  the  burden  of  the  world, 
and  mother  says  it's  through  very  deep  waters 
just  now." 


208          THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

"  Nevertheless,  you  've  got  to  try  to  do  better 
than  he,"  Philip  resumed,  and  turning  again  to 
Agnes :  — 

"  We  must  help  him ;  we  must  get  him  ready. 
I  am  a  symbolist,  you  know ;  I  believe  in  the  effi 
cacy  to  the  human  spirit  of  the  outward  visible 
sign,  used  with  understanding,  and  I  shall  proceed 
on  that  method  with  this  young  man.  All  chas 
tisement  that  is  real  is  spiritual ;  but  just  as  we 
children  of  a  larger  growth  need  OUT  symbols,  so 
I  think  the  younger  children  are  helped  by  them 
too,  and  I  shall  treat  our  boy  symbolically.  —  Do 
you  know  what  I  mean?"  he  added,  turning  to 
Christopher,  whose  eyes  had  been  on  him  all  the 
while. 

The  child's  face  flushed  and  he  wriggled  in  em 
barrassment. 

"  Yes,  I  know ;  mother  did  it  this  morning,  but 
she  did  n't  call  it  that  name." 

Out  of  respect  for  Christopher's  feelings,  his 
mother  and  uncle  Philip  repressed  their  inclina 
tion  to  laugh,  and  hastened  to  change  the  subject. 

"  I  think  you  and  I  shall  have  to  go  to  the  crys 
tal  maze  when  you  come  to  town,"  said  uncle 
Philip  thoughtfully.  "  I  really  think  we  shall." 

Christopher  gurgled  in  ecstasy. 

"  And  what  do  you  suppose  a  Zoo  is  ?  " 

Christopher  flung  his  arms  around  uncle  Philip's 
neck  with  a  shout. 

"  I  know !  Elephants,  and  monkeys,  and  tigers. 
Oh ! "  —  then  he  paused  and  drew  back  —  "  but 


THE  INTERIM  209 

I  should  'specially  like  to  light  the  altar  candles, 
because  here  mother  never  lets  me  do  anything 
with  matches." 

"  I  'm  not  going  to  try  to  make  a  clergyman  out 
of  him,"  laughed  Philip.  "  Never  fear !  " 

"No,  you're  going  to  teach  me  how  to  help 
father,  are  n't  you?  " 

"Good-by!"  Philip  said.  "I  shall  look  for 
him  Monday.  And  you  —  if  there  is  ever  any 
help  I  can  give  you,  you  will  not  hesitate  to  call 
on  me  ?  " 

"There  is  no  help,  dear  Philip;  Christopher 
and  I  must  just  stand  it  together.  He  has  set  his 
heart  on  not  lowering  the  men's  wages,  but  he 
knows  and  I  know  —  Ah,  well  —  after  all,  what 
do  we  know  ?  The  strike  may  succeed." 


CHAPTER  VH 

TWO   WAYS   OF  BETRAYING  A  TRUST 

THE  professor  wrote  Mr.  Watson  a  note  ask 
ing  for  an  interview.  It  was  Philip  who  finally 
pestered  him  into  taking  this  course  of  action. 
Philip  said :  — 

"  We  must  do  something,  for  already  the  men 
have  begun  to  drift  back  to  the  shops,  and  he  has 
gotten  outside  labor  enough  to  resume  part  of  his 
work.  If  you  really  feel  that  Mr.  Watson  ought 
to  be  consulted  "  — 

"  I  do  without  question,"  said  the  professor. 

"  Then  why  delay  ?  I  will  go  and  talk  to  him 
about  it  at  once." 

But  to  this  the  professor  could  not  consent.  He 
preferred  to  have  the  interview  himself.  He  ar 
gued  that  Philip,  as  an  Anglican  clergyman,  would 
not  gain  Mr.  Watson's  sympathy.  Philip  did  not 
feel  the  force  of  the  argument,  but  he  saw  that 
the  professor's  conscience  was  in  an  inflamed  con 
dition,  and  that  there  would  be  difficulty  in  per 
suading  him  to  accept  the  evidence  of  anybody's 
senses  but  his  own ;  so  he  let  him  have  his  way. 

Mr.  Watson  could  not  find  a  free  hour  for  the 
conference  until  the  following  week.  This  was 


TWO  WAYS  OF  BETRAYING  A  TRUST    211 

a  pity,  as  it  wasted  more  time.  During  the  inter 
val  a  number  of  new  men  were  hired  at  the 
shops. 

The  two  gentlemen  met  on  a  bright  morning 
of  late  March,  in  Mr.  Watson's  private  office,  a 
small  bare  sanctum  manifestly  devoted  to  business. 
The  great  safe  stood  at  one  side  of  the  room,  and 
on  the  wall  above  it  hung  a  picture  of  the  shops. 
In  a  corner  on  a  small  table  gleamed  an  ornate 
silver  pitcher  and  goblets,  a  gift  from  the  employ 
ees  in  a  misguided  moment  of  gratitude  for  some 
half -understood  benefit  interpreted  by  domineering 
foremen.  The  master's  desk,  a  clumsy,  old-fash 
ioned  piece  of  furniture,  occupied  the  space  next 
the  window,  and  a  green-shaded  electric  bulb  hung 
conveniently  low  over  it.  The  one  bit  of  human 
sweetness  in  the  room  was  a  photograph  which 
stood  on  the  desk,  —  Mr.  Watson's  grandson,  a 
chubby  laughing  baby  of  three,  with  his  grand 
father's  round  bright  eyes.  The  men  said  old 
Peter  had  been  closer  than  the  green  on  a  leaf 
since  this  child  had  come  into  the  world. 

Ten  years  had  made  but  little  difference  in  the 
manufacturer's  outward  appearance.  His  cheeks 
had  withered,  but  they  were  just  as  red  as  they 
used  to  be.  His  knees  shook  when  he  walked,  but 
the  hand  that  signed  that  honorable  name  was  just 
as  steady  as  it  had  been  ten  years  before ;  the  mind 
was  just  as  unflinchingly  and  lucidly  commercial. 

He  greeted  the  professor  with  a  cordial  manner 
in  which  respect  and  sympathy  were  nicely  blended, 


212          THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

and  gave  orders  to  his  secretary  not  to  disturb 
him. 

The  professor  apologized  for  taking  his  time, 
but  the  old  gentleman  replied  with  a  merry  smile, 
that  it  was  he  who  ought  to  apologize  for  inad 
vertently  taking  so  much  of  the  professor's  time, 
and  he  hoped  the  professor  would  absolve  him 
from  all  intention  to  trespass.  He  hoped  also  — 
this  with  a  look  of  veiled  commiseration  —  that 
the  well-meaning  but,  to  his  mind,  misguided  peo 
ple  for  whom  the  professor  was  laboring  so  de 
votedly  were  proving  themselves  correspondingly 
grateful  for  his  unwearied  efforts.  As  the  pro 
fessor  had  not  yet  received  evidence  of  the  grati 
tude  of  the  strikers,  this  remark  was  peculiarly 
soothing  to  his  self-pity.  But  on  the  other  hand, 
neither  had  the  strikers  received  evidence  of  the 
professor's  unwearied  efforts,  and  it  is  a  question 
whether  they  could  be  expected  to  be  grateful  for 
the  searching  manner  in  which  he  was  endeavoring 
to  keep  himself  unspotted  for  their  sakes.  Their 
sullen  suspicion,  and  Philip's  impatience,  and  Chris 
topher's  moody  scorn  made  the  genial  appreciative- 
ness  of  the  white-haired,  rosy  old  gentleman  espe 
cially  welcome  to  the  professor  at  this  crisis,  and 
led  him  to  betray  more  discontent  with  the  work 
ing  people  than  he  otherwise  might  have  done. 
Then,  too,  Mr.  Watson  was  so  fair  to  Christopher, 
so  generous  in  his  admiration  of  his  idealistic  com 
petitor —  whom  he  was  wrecking  as  rapidly  as 
competitive  methods  would  permit.  He  spoke  of 


TWO  WAYS  OF  BETRAYING  A  TRUST    213 

him  with  tears,  at  the  same  time  insinuating  that 
Christopher's  point  of  view  was  youthful  and  er 
roneous,  lacking  in  common  sense. 

The  professor  defended  his  son-in-law's  theories 
up  to  a  certain  point.  Into  the  region  of  pure 
socialism  he  confessed  he  could  not  follow  him, 
but  "  the  boy  "  had  not  yet  introduced  anything 
alarmingly  radical  into  his  business,  —  the  mild 
form  of  profit  sharing  which  then  obtained  in  the 
Kenyon  shops  could  hardly  be  expected  to  demol 
ish  the  state,  —  and  the  professor  insisted  politely 
that  Christopher's  attitude  towards  trades  unions 
was  sound,  both  economically  and  morally. 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Gillespie,"  said  the  old  man, 
"  before  theories  I  must,  perforce,  retire.  When 
I  was  young  I  had  no  time  to  theorize.  I  was 
obliged  to  act.  The  world  was  not  willing  to  stand 
still  while  I  found  out  how  it  moved.  I  had  to 
get  my  experience  by  doing  my  work,  rather  than 
by  speculating  on  how  badly  other  people  were 
doing  theirs;  and,  on  the  whole,  I  don't  regret 
it."  His  eye  rested  absently  on  the  great  iron 
safe  as  he  spoke,  and  the  professor  felt  the  signifi 
cance  of  the  glance.  "  I  know  how  the  world  is 
made,"  he  continued,  —  "I  have  lived  in  it  long 
enough  to  know,  —  and  human  nature  does  n't 
change.  Man  needs  the  incentive  of  competition. 
My  methods  may  be  old-fashioned,  but  they  were 
instituted  by  a  generation  which  was  quite  as  dis 
tinguished  for  piety  as  the  present  one,  and  they 
are  safe  and  honest.  I  have  proved  them  so." 


214         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

"  You  must  acknowledge,  however,  that  the 
others  also  are  practical,"  objected  the  professor. 
"  In  all  the  ten  years  of  my  son's  experiment  he 
has  not  reduced  his  men's  wages." 

Old  Peter's  only  answer  to  this  assertion  was 
a  smile  of  mingled  pity,  politeness,  and  reserve, 
which  endured  through  a  silence  of  fully  a  minute. 
Then  he  resumed :  — 

"  Of  course  I  do  not  need  to  repeat  to  an  au 
thority  like  yourself  the  reasons  why  the  business 
man  is  obliged  to  cut  down  wages.  These  reasons 
are  well  known  to  you ;  doubtless  you  have  already 
stated  them  much  better  in  your  books  than  I 
could  give  them  here." 

The  professor  had  not  written  books,  but  the 
inference  was  flattering. 

"What  your  son-in-law's  methods  of  meeting 
these  difficulties  may  have  been,  I  do  not  know ; 
the  difficulties  exist.  I  can  only  say  that  he  has 
used  his  methods  ten  years,  I  have  used  mine  forty, 
and  I  have  never  done  business  at  a  loss." 

This  last  statement  made  the  professor  uneasy. 
Did  it  imply  that  Christopher  had  done  business 
at  a  loss  ?  —  Had  he  ? 

Agnes  and  her  husband  had  never  felt  it  ne 
cessary  to  keep  the  professor  informed  of  all  the 
details  of  management  at  the  Kenyon  shops,  but 
the  professor  had  supposed  he  understood  the  situa 
tion.  Was  there  —  However,  he  had  not  come 
here  to  discuss  his  son-in-law's  affairs  with  a  com 
petitor,  and  his  good  taste  warned  him  that  it 


TWO  WAYS  OF  BETRAYING  A  TRUST    215 

would  be  neither  suitable  nor  well-bred  to  do  so. 
He  wheeled  back  to  the  subject  in  hand,  mentally 
resolving  to  have  a  talk  with  Agnes  at  the  earliest 
opportunity. 

"  But  as  far  as  the  present  strike  is  concerned," 
he  said,  "  and  it  is  of  that  that  I  wished  to  speak  to 
you,  the  question  is  not  one  of  wages ;  it  is  purely 
of  principle,  —  the  right  of  the  men  to  organize." 

Old  Peter  pursed  up  his  lips  and  regarded  his 
visitor  for  a  long  time  silently,  with  almost  quiz 
zical  eyes. 

The  professor  waited,  becoming  more  and  more 
perturbed  in  spirit  as  the  seconds  passed. 

At  last  the  old  gentleman  opened  his  lips  and 
said :  — 

"  I  will  tell  you  a  tale." 

He  paused  again,  but  continued  almost  imme 
diately  :  "  I  have  not  spoken  of  this  to  any  one. 
It  was  not  worth  my  while.  The  community  got  a 
little  excited  over  this  strike  in  the  beginning,  but 
I  Ve  seen  it  excited  before.  I  knew  it  would  n't 
last.  It  was  —  in  fact,  I  am  an  old  man ;  unusual 
exertion  and  excitement  tire  me  —  it  was  easier  to 
let  the  matter  blow  over  than  to  defend  myself. 
We  who  serve  the  Lord  for  half  a  century  get  used 
to  being  misrepresented,  you  know,  Mr.  Gillespie. 
But  you  have  been  open  with  me,  you  have  dealt 
with  the  situation  conscientiously  and  kindly.  I 
will  tell  you  a  tale." 

Here,  then,  was  something  in  the  nature  of  evi 
dence.  The  professor  composed  himself  to  listen. 


216         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

"  There  was  in  my  shops,  during  the  six  months 
previous  to  this  strike,  a  Scotchwoman  named 
Casey." 

The  professor  knitted  his  brows  and  tried  to  re 
call  something. 

"  A  common  name  enough,  but  she  was  an  un 
common  sort  of  woman.  She  came  from  we  did  n't 
know  where.  We  are,  perhaps,  a  little  lenient  in 
the  matter  of  credentials  at  the  factory.  My  prin 
ciple  is,  if  they  need  the  work,  give  it  to  them. 
We  have  n't  time  to  inquire  into  the  genealogy  of 
all  our  employees." 

The  professor's  conciliatory  mood  hindered  him 
from  remembering  that  the  trade  union  version  of 
this  statement  was  that  Peter  would  hire  any  old 
tramp  who  would  sell  himself  cheap. 

"  The  woman  was  also  a  skilled  stitcher ;  and 
in  this  day  of  hulking,  inefficient,  unskilled  labor, 
we  manufacturers  are  only  too  glad  to  get  hold  of 
an  operative  who  knows  his  trade  and  won't  waste 
all  our  profits  in  damaging  the  machines  and  the 
raw  material." 

His  auditor  nodded  sympathetically. 

"  We  did  n't  pay  much  attention  to  her ;  that 
was  where  we  made  our  mistake ;  but  the  superin 
tendent  is  a  kind-hearted  man,  and  if  the  women 
do  their  work  he  lets  them  have  pretty  much  what 
they  want.  Moreover,  I  do  not  approve  of  the  spy 
ing  system,  Mr.  Gillespie  —  never  have.  But  one 
thing  I  have  emphatically  learned  in  this  strike. 
The  more  lenient  you  are  with  the  workingmen,  the 


TWO  WAYS  OF  BETRAYING  A  TRUST    217 

less  they  will  thank  you  for  it.  The  workingmen 
are  like  children,  —  they  must  be  dominated.  Here 
after  I  shall  pursue  a  much  sterner  policy  in  my 
dealings  with  them." 

"  Yes,  I  have  been  more  and  more  convinced  of 
their  childishness  during  the  past  weeks,"  the  pro 
fessor  acquiesced. 

"  And  this  woman,  to  whom  we  were  paying 
higher  wages  than  to  any  other  stitcher  in  the  shop, 
was  all  the  while  inciting  her  fellow  workers  to  re 
bellion,  under  our  very  noses.  Such  is  gratitude, 
Mr.  Gillespie.  But  to  come  to  my  story.  In  Jan 
uary,  as  perhaps  you  know,  I  was  obliged  to  reduce 
the  wages  of  the  stitchers  "  — 

"  I  did  hear  of  such  a  reduction,  but  it  did  not 
seem  to  bear  directly  on  the  strike,"  said  the  pro 
fessor. 

Mr.  Watson  pursed  up  his  lips  again  and  was 
significantly  silent  for  a  moment.  Then  he  con 
tinued  :  — 

"  I  will  not  stop  now  to  state  my  reasons  for  the 
reduction;  I  am  willing  to  show  you  my  books 
later,  if  you  care  to  see  them.  About  this  time  I 
also  reengaged  a  very  efficient  forewoman  who  had 
left  me  some  months  before,  but  she  found  it  more 
difficult  to  get  work  elsewhere  than  she  had  sup 
posed.  The  little  experience  did  her  good.  When 
she  came  back  to  the  shops  she  discovered  that  the 
stitching-room  was  in  a  state  of  complete  turmoil 
and  disorder.  The  women  were  slighting  their 
work ;  they  'stood  around  in  groups  during  work- 


218         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

ing  hours  and  talked  excitedly  among  themselves ; 
they  were  on  the  verge  of  insubordination.  And 
this  Scotchwoman  was  at  the  centre  of  all  the  dis 
turbance.  My  forewoman  soon  found  that  a  strike 
was  brewing.  Yes,  Mr.  Gillespie,  a  strike  for 
higher  wages.  She  also  learned  from  unguarded 
remarks  let  fall  by  the  women,  that  they  were 
organized.  Now,  Mr.  Gillespie,  I  shall  not  at  pre 
sent  attempt  to  discuss  with  you  my  views  with 
regard  to  trade  organization ;  you  already  know 
them.  The  workers  have  a  right  to  organize ;  I 
have  a  right  to  refuse  to  treat  with  organizations. 
To  me  the. personal  touch,  the  direct  dealing  with 
the  individual,  is  the  all-important  matter.  The 
unions  wish  to  debar  certain  individuals  from 
labor ;  I  claim,  and  there  are  many  with  me,  that 
every  man  has  a  right  to  work  if  he  wishes  to  work. 
However,  this  is  not  the  point  of  my  story.  I  had 
sufficient  evidence  to  satisfy  me  that  this  strike 
was  brewing,  —  a  strike  for  higher  wages,  mind 
you,  —  and  I  took  what  seemed  to  me,  at  the  mo 
ment,  the  best  means  to  prevent  it.  A  strike  is  a 
miserable  affair,  Mr.  Gillespie ;  I  did  what  I  did 
to  save  my  people  from  misery.  Perhaps  I  was 
hasty ;  I  know  I  was  hurt,  angry  at  their  lack  of 
confidence.  Perhaps,  under  the  first  irritation  of 
the  shock,  an  arbitrary  tone  crept  into  those  notices 
which  might  have  been  avoided  had  I  waited  for 
my  heart  to  cool.  But  there  was  no  time  to  wait ; 
the  strike  for  wages  was  imminent ;  and  —  I  pre 
cipitated  what  I  had  tried  to  prevent.  They  saw  a 


TWO  WAYS  OF  BETRAYING  A  TRUST    219 

better  chance  for  winning  the  public  sympathy, 
and  they  took  it.  They  at  once  raised  this  hue  and 
cry  about  the  '  union  principle.'  My  dear  Mr. 
Gillespie,  —  here  old  Peter  laid  his  hand  caress 
ingly  on  the  professor's  knee,  —  "  do  you  not  see  the 
real  cause  of  the  strike  ?  The  '  union  principle  ' 
has  a  very  pretty  sound.  But  I  know  what  I  am 
talking  about." 

The  professor  sat  with  his  head  in  his  hand, 
musing.  He  was  disheartened,  disgusted. 

"  I  have  been  dreading  something  of  this  kind 
all  along,"  he  said.  "  I  have  feared  they  were  not 
open  with  me." 

"  Open  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Watson  ;  and  then  he 
laughed,  —  an  old  man's  chuckling,  mocking  laugh. 
"  Why,  my  dear  sir,  here  is  a  case  in  point :  the 
forewoman  has  a  wonderful  gift  for  faces,  —  quite 
a  detective  kind  of  quality,  —  and  she  remembered 
having  seen  this  stitcher  Casey  somewhere,  some 
time  ago.  She  asked  her  point  blank  if  she  had 
ever  worked  in  the  Kenyon  shops,"  —  the  profes 
sor  started,  —  "  and  she  said  she  had  not.  We 
found  out  afterwards  that  she  had." 

"  Why !  I  believe  that  is  the  woman  my  daugh 
ter  has  made  her  particular  friend ! "  cried  the 
professor.  "  And  now  I  think  of  it,  she  "  — 

"  Indeed !  I  only  tell  you  this  to  give  you  an 
idea  of  their  methods ;  to  indicate  how  far  they 
may  be  trusted.  Of  course  it  has  no  bearing  on 
the  strike." 

"  But  there  I  must  beg  to  differ  with  you,"  ex- 


220         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

claimed  the  professor.  "  I  consider  that  it  has  a 
bearing  on  the  strike,  —  a  moral  bearing,  —  a  very 
important  bearing." 

"  Truel  "  Mr.  Watson  acquiesced,  adding,  after 
a  pause,  "and  it  was  such  a  short-sighted  lie, too." 

"  I  must  think  this  matter  over,"  said  the  pro 
fessor.  "  I  confess  to  you  that  I  am  bewildered. 
My  whole  attitude  with  regard  to  the  strike  has 
undergone  a  change.  I  must  consider.  I  think 
of  my  son's  devotedness  through  all  these  years. 
It  will  wring  the  innermost  fibres  of  his  nature  to 
tell  him  these  things." 

The  naivete  of  this  remark  was  not  lost  upon 
old  Peter,  but  he  kept  his  countenance. 

"  Perhaps  Mr.  Kenyon  knows,"  he  suggested. 
"  As  I  said,  this  has  no  direct  bearing  on  the 
strike.  Doubtless  the  woman  considered  it  a  lie 
in  a  good  cause.  We  wink  at  some  things  which, 
though  shady  in  themselves,  seem  to  make  for  our 
scheme  of  righteousness." 

"  I  have  never  known  a  man  with  a  keener  sense 
of  honor  than  Christopher  Kenyon,"  said  the  pro 
fessor  stiffly.  "  When  I  gave  him  my  daughter  I 
knew  that  whatever  inexperience,  whatever  impet 
uosity  there  might  be  —  still "  — 

There  was  a  tumult  outside  the  office.  Men  ran 
past  the  window.  A  crowd  began  to  collect.  The 
two  gentlemen  got  up  hastily  and  went  out  to  see 
what  was  the  matter. 

The  crowd  had  gathered  round  tw,o  men,  one  of 
whom  lay  on  the  ground  unconscious,  while  the 


TWO  WAYS  OF  BETRAYING  A  TRUST    221 

other,  looking  dazed  and  white,  and  wiping  blood 
from  his  face,  leaned  against  the  wall  of  the  fac 
tory.  It  was  the  noon  hour. 

Two  or  three  people  told  the  story  haphazard  to 
the  master.  The  men  had  been  friends  and  had 
worked  together  at  the  same  bench.  They  both 
went  out  at  the  time  of  the  strike,  but  two  days  ago 
the  man  who  was  wiping  his  face  had  gone  back 
to  work.  He  had  so  many  to  care  for.  To-day 
the  friend  had  met  him  as  he  came  out  of  the  shop, 
there  had  been  words,  hard  names,  then  blows. 
The  striker  had  gotten  the  worst  of  it. 

"  He  did  n't  have  no  breakfast  to  slug  on,"  com 
mented  a  voice  in  the  crowd. 

In  falling  he  had  struck  some  loose  lumber. 
They  thought  he  had  probably  broken  a  rib.  They 
touched  him  and  he  groaned. 

"  Kun  to  the  office,  one  of  you,  and  ask  Mr.  John 
son  to  ring  for  the  ambulance,"  said  the  master. 
"  He  must  go  to  the  Workingmen's  Hospital." 

The  man  opened  his  eyes  and  looked  straight  at 
old  Peter. 

"  I  'm  damned  if  I  '11  go  to  your  bloody  hospi 
tal,"  he  said.  "  I  '11  die  first,"  and  he  fainted 
again. 

"  I  '11  shake  hands  on  that !  "  said  the  other  man ; 
and  as  he  said  it  he,  too,  looked  at  old  Peter ;  then 
he  turned  and  walked  unsteadily  into  the  shop. 
There  was  supreme  insolence  in  the  words  and  the 
action. 

"  Very  well !  if  he  prefers  the  police  station  to 


222          THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

the  hospital,"  began  the  old  gentleman  ;  but  there 
was  something  ominous  in  the  way  in  which  those 
workingmen  stood  with  their  brows  bent  upon  him 
watchfully. 

"  Or,  I  don't  care,  do  as  you  please !  "  he  added, 
"  only  get  him  out  of  here  ;  I  can't  have  the  factory 
yard  turned  into  a  butcher  shop." 

He  moved  toward  the  office,  and  the  professor 
followed  him. 

"  These  are  some  of  the  things  we  have  to  en 
dure,  Mr.  Gillespie,  from  the  people  we  feed  and 
clothe,  and  whose  wounds  we  bind  up.  My  heart 
is  lacerated  with  episodes  of  this  nature." 

The  brutality  and  the  discourtesy  of  the  scene 
had  been  too  much  for  the  professor.  For  the 
moment  he  lost  all  sense  of  values. 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  kindness,"  he  said  ab 
sently.  "  You  have  done  me  a  service.  I  am  much 
disturbed  by  this  morning's  experience.  I  must 
consider.  I " —  He  paused  and  thought  a  moment. 
"  I  do  not  think  I  can  continue  to  serve  on  this 
committee.  For  my  son's  sake  I  should  not  wish 
to  expose  the  machinations  of  the  strike."  He 
stopped  again  and  stared  broodingly  at  the  floor, 
then  shook  Mr.  Watson's  hand  and  went  out 
through  the  factory  yard  with  bent  head.  Two 
men  were  lounging  by  the  gate,  and  as  he  passed, 
one  of  them  said :  — 

"Do  you  think  that  scab  Murphy  '11  get 
bounced  ?  Did  n't  he  have  the  gall,  though  ?  And 
then  to  walk  back  into  the  shop ! " 


TWO  WAYS  OF  BETRAYING  A  TRUST    223 

"  They  ain't  bouncin'  expert  cutters  round  these 
shops  just  now,  for  a  little  jaw,"  returned  the 
other.  "  Old  Peter  '11  swallow  more  cold  truth 
than  that  before  he  '11  lose  a  dollar.  Murphy 
knew  it,  too.  There  ain't  no  flies  on  Murphy. 
Maybe  you  think  he  's  scabbin'  it  for  love  of  old 
Peter!  Nit!" 


CHAPTER  VIII 
A  NON-COMMITTAL   COMMITTEE 

AFTER  his  interview  with  Mr.  Watson,  the  pro 
fessor  veiled  himself  in  an  atmosphere  of  mystery. 
Philip  and  Christopher  were  unable  to  come  at 
him  ;  he  baffled  them  by  hint  and  silences.  He 
said  that,  all  things  considered,  he  preferred  to 
regard  Mr.  Watson's  communication  as  confiden 
tial.  He  confessed  himself  uncertain  what  course 
of  action  to  pursue.  The  affair  was  a  delicate  one. 
He  could  not  move  in  it  without  hurting  some 
body's  feelings.  He  dreaded  the  brutal  violence 
of  the  workmen.  "  No  one  likes  to  be  confronted 
with  his  —  own  —  faults."  He  assured  his  son-in- 
law,  perhaps  too  insistently,  that  his  sympathy  was 
still  with  the  cause  of  labor,  and  that  his  belief  in 
the  trades  union  principle  was  still  unshaken  ;  but 
under  the  circumstances  —  And  meanwhile  he 
did  nothing. 

"  He  is  growing  old,"  Christopher  said  to  Philip. 
"It  must  be  that  —  else  —  I  can't  believe  the 
man 's  a  moral  coward,  you  know,  —  I  can't !  I 
have  reverenced  him  more  than  I  ever  have  any 
other  man  living.  I  have  loved  him  as  a  son. 
It 's  a  habit  with  me.  Disappointments  like  that 


A  NON-COMMITTAL  COMMITTEE         225 

break  up  one's  life.  I  —  I  should  n't  know  how  to 
take  it.  He  's  getting  old  ;  he  can't  keep  up  with 
us.  That 's  all.  We  must  be  patient  with  him." 

Philip  was  silent,  as  he  usually  was  when  the 
professor  came  under  discussion.  But  he  set  to 
work  to  stir  up  certain  individuals  who  had  at 
tended  those  early  meetings  of  the  "  community  " 
on  behalf  of  the  strike.  The  professor  had  one  or 
two  letters  of  inquiry  concerning  the  progress  of 
the  investigation.  Several  acquaintances  stopped 
him  on  the  street  to  ask  when  the  report  would  be 
forthcoming ;  a  few  joked  him  about  it,  and  one 
man  hinted  testily  that  the  committee  had  not 
done  its  duty  and  needed  to  be  called  to  account. 
One  member  of  the  committee,  in  a  moment  of 
absent  mindedness,  had  sailed  for  Europe ;  the 
other  member  was  active  chiefly  in  complaining 
that  the  chairman  had  never  called  a  formal  meet 
ing.  The  professor,  harassed  and  uneasy,  con 
sented  to  explain  himself,  and  empowered  Philip 
to  send  out  notices  to  the  constituents.  About 
thirty  people  came,  most  of  them  in  that  mood  of 
inflated  tyranny  which  is  induced  by  the  prospect 
of  being  able  to  find  fault  with  somebody. 

Agnes  was  there  ;  she  had  come  to  town  to 
do  some  shopping  and  to  carry  little  Christopher 
back  to  Kenyon.  Philip  regretted  having  forced 
the  meeting  when  he  saw  her.  He  had  a  presenti 
ment  that  the  professor  was  not  going  to  appear 
to  advantage. 

Somebody  who  was  nobody  in  particular  occu- 


226         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

pied  the  chair,  but  the  audience  tacitly  recognized 
that  Philip  Starr  had  engineered  this  meeting. 
The  ladies  untied  their  feather  boas  and  loosened 
their  jackets  ;  the  gentlemen  selected  seats  with 
slow  and  thoughtful  precision ;  a  few  hung  reluc 
tantly  about  the  doorway.  There  was  a  lack  of 
spontaneity  in  the  conversation  after  the  arrival 
of  the  professor.  A  watchful  courtesy  prevailed. 
The  chairman  announced  the  subject  of  the  meet 
ing,  and  called  upon  the  committee  for  its  report. 

The  professor  arose  and  looked  around  upon  his 
hearers  with  that  air  of  seriously  conscious  but 
well-bred  righteousness  with  which  he  was  accus 
tomed  to  dominate  his  classes.  He  was  a  hand 
some  man  of  a  serene,  soft  -  visaged  type  that 
just  escaped  the  flabby.  He  wore  his  beard  close- 
clipped  and  following  the  oval  fullness  of  his 
womanly,  smooth  cheek;  his  lips  were  sensitive 
almost  to  unsteadiness,  but  not  quite;  his  eyes 
were  gentle,  wistful,  speculative  ;  at  times  lambent, 
mistily.  His  hair  and  beard  were  of  that  dark 
shade  of  brown  which  grizzles  slowly,  and  as  yet 
the  gray  threads  were  few.  As  he  stood  there  he 
showed  himself  for  what  he  was,  —  a  very  gentle 
man,  earnest,  gracious,  considerate. 

"  Mr.  Chairman,  ladies  and  gentlemen :  your 
committee  begs  your  indulgence  in  that  it  has  no 
formal  report  to  make  this  evening  "  — 

The  audience  found  itself  unable  to  dissemble 
surprise  at  this  statement,  but  endeavored  by 
silence  to  convey  an  impression  of  disapproval. 


A  NON-COMMITTAL  COMMITTEE         227 

"  As  chairman  of  this  committee,"  the  professor 
continued,  "  I  wish  to  state  that  all  blame  for  this 
seeming  negligence,  —  I  trust  when  you  have  heard 
my  statement  you  will  be  willing  to  absolve  me 
from  the  charge  of  intentional  neglect,  —  all  blame 
must  rest  upon  me.  I  wish  also  to  apologize  to 
the  other  members  of  my  committee."  Here  the 
professor's  eye  roved  over  the  assembly  until  it 
found  the  one  other  member  who  was  present, 
when  it  fixed  itself  upon  him  exclusively.  "  I 
wish  to  apologize  for  what  may  have  appeared 
to  be  a  lack  of  recognition  of  my  responsibility 
towards  them.  If  I  have  erred  in  my  duty  as 
chairman  it  has  been  through  a  desire  to  save  my 
busy  colleagues  from  the  preliminary  confusion 
and  entanglement  which  characterize  all  investi 
gations  of  this  nature.  I  did  not  expect  to  act 
alone ;  in  fact,  I  have  not  acted  alone ;  I  have 
taken  no  action  in  the  matter  whatever." 

The  dissatisfied  member,  being  subdued  by  the 
professor's  persistent  gaze,  assumed,  in  spite  of  his 
own  better  judgment,  a  mollified  expression  of 
countenance,  and  even  politely  smiled. 

"  If  I  had  known  what  the  present  investigation 
involved  it  is  fair  to  say  that  I  should  never  have 
undertaken  it,"  resumed  the  professor.  "  I  was 
not  equipped  for  it.  I  do  not  believe  that  any 
one  of  us  here  in  this  room  this  evening  is 
equipped  for  the  kind  of  experience  into  which 
I  was  plunged.  Truth  was  decidedly,  in  this  in 
stance,  at  the  bottom  of  a  well ;  and  although  I 


228         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

went  down  several  fathoms,  and  through  an  un 
speakable  amount  of  slime  and  sediment,  I  have 
failed  to  bring  her  up." 

The  audience  smiled  at  this  metaphor  and  began 
to  look  appeased. 

"  I  have  been  unable  to  bring  in  a  report  simply 
because  until  very  lately  I  could  not  obtain  a  suf 
ficient  number  of  facts  accounting  for  the  strike, 
either  for  or  against  the  strikers."  He  gave  his 
final  clause  with  emphasis  and  glanced  towards 
Philip.  "  As  far  as  I  can  judge  neither  side  in 
this  strike,  neither  employer  nor  employees,  under 
stands  the  position  of  the  other  side,  and,  partly 
through  lack  of  self-control,  partly  through  lack  of 
intelligence,  meetings  for  discussion  and  concilia 
tion  always  result  in  further  misunderstandings 
and  increased  rancor.  Not  having  been  able  to 
arrive  at  the  real  rights  of  the  case,  I  have  not  felt 
justified  in  involving  my  constituents  in  action 
either  for  or  against  the  strikers.  The  matter  has 
seemed  to  me  too  serious  to  allow  of  hasty  action, 
too  serious  in  its  bearing  upon  the  moral  tone  of 
the  community.  As  an  individual  I  may,  without 
serious  detriment  to  myself,  allow  my  sympathies 
to  carry  me  away  into  expressions  of  partisanship 
which,  in  general,  do  no  harm ;  but  it  is  quite  an 
other  thing  to  force  a  community  into  a  false  and 
perhaps  immoral  position  before  the  eyes  of  the 
judicial  world.  This  is  all  that  your  committee 
has  to  say  on  the  subject.  The  facts  did  not  war 
rant  action.  If  my  statement  is  unsatisfactory  I 


A  NON-COMMITTAL  COMMITTEE         229 

should  be  glad  to  amplify  it,  if  I  can  do  so  without 
prejudice  to  those  who  have  aided  me  in  attaining 
my  present  state  of  ignorance.  Are  there  any 
questions  any  one  would  like  to  ask  ?  " 

The  professor  paused,  looked  around,  and  sat 
down. 

The  chairman  threw  the  matter  open  for  discus 
sion  ;  he  did  n't  need  to,  but  that  was  his  mistake. 
The  audience  pitied  him  and  thought  how  much 
better  it  could  have  presided  than  he  did.  A  pass 
ing  thought,  however,  for  the  professor  was  upper 
most  in  men's  minds. 

A  red-faced,  sullen-looking  gentleman  in  the 
back  of  the  room  inquired  if  Professor  Gillespie 
spoke  for  himself  or  for  the  committee,  when  he 
said  that  the  facts  did  not  warrant  action.  The 
sullen-looking  gentleman  understood  that  the  com 
mittee  had  taken  no  concerted  measures,  and  he 
should  like  to  know  if  other  members,  through 
personal  investigations,  had  arrived  at  the  same 
opinion  as  the  chairman. 

The  professor  replied,  flushing  slightly,  that  he 
was  sorry  to  have  caused  misunderstanding  in  the 
minds  of  his  audience ;  the  statement  was  his,  not 
the  committee's  ;  the  report  was  an  informal  one ; 
in  fact,  it  was  no  report  at  all ;  if  other  members 
of  the  committee  were  persuaded  differently  he 
wished  they  would  speak  for  themselves. 

The  one  other  member,  not  having  made  any 
investigations  on  his  own  account,  kept  still. 

A  sallow,  emaciated  man  with  a  blue-black, 


230          THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

curling  beard  arose  and  said  that  it  seemed  to  him 
the  committee  had  transcended  its  powers.  As  he 
understood  it,  the  committee  had  been  appointed 
for  purposes  of  investigation  only ;  the  right  to 
decide  for  or  against  action  rested  entirely  with 
the  body  of  people  who  had  appointed  the  com 
mittee,  and  the  chairman  was  not  empowered  to 
decide,  either  personally  or  on  behalf  of  the  com 
mittee,  whether  or  not  the  facts  warranted  action  ; 
he  was  simply  empowered  to  collect  the  facts,  and 
state  them. 

This  presentation  of  the  situation  was  so  lucid, 
so  true,  and  at  the  same  time  so  unexpected,  that 
the  audience  was,  for  the  moment,  shocked  into 
speechlessness.  Then  Christopher  stood  up  and 
surveyed  the  people  all  around  him. 

"  Let  me  assure  this  meeting  that  the  necessity 
for  action  is  entirely  obviated,"  he  said.  "The 
strike  is  lost.  Mr.  Watson's  shops  resumed  full 
work  to-day.  About  a  thousand  men  have  gone 
back." 

This  seemed  to  be  news,  and  disconcerting  news, 
to  all  except  Philip  and  Agnes. 

"Might  I  ask,"  murmured  a  timid,  feminine 
voice,  "  did  it  end  in  favor  of  the  strikers  or 
against  them  ?  " 

Christopher,  who  had  sat  down,  rose  again. 

"  I  said  —  the  strike  was  lost,"  he  repeated 
quietly. 

The  audience  had  become  grave  and  abstracted, 
eyes  were  lowered,  heads  were  bent  thoughtfully. 


A  NON-COMMITTAL  COMMITTEE         231 

On  a  sudden,  a  woman  got  up,  her  face  aflame 
with  emotion,  her  eyes  flashing. 

"  If  this  is  the  case  I  do  not  see  why  we  are 
here.  The  only  dignified  thing  we  can  do  under 
the  circumstances  is  to  adjourn." 

"  Do  you  make  that  in  the  form  of  a  motion, 
Mrs.  Burroughs  ?  "  asked  the  chairman. 

"  Oh,  you  idiot !  "  said  Agnes  in  an  exasperated 
whisper. 

"  Before  we  adjourn  I  should  like  to  ask  Pro 
fessor  Gillespie,"  —  it  was  Philip  who  spoke,  and 
all  eyes  were  turned  to  him  hopefully,  —  "I  should 
like  to  ask  just  what  he  would  have  us  to  under 
stand  by  his  statement  at  the  beginning  of  his  — 
his  report,  that  '  until  very  lately '  he  could  not 
obtain  a  sufficient  number  of  facts.  Are  we  to 
understand  that  very  lately  he  has  come  into  pos 
session  of  important  facts  ?  " 

The  professor  faced  his  audience  and  hesitated. 

"  These  facts  —  that  is,  some  of  these  facts  — 
in  general,  perhaps  I  may  say  all  of  them  —  have 
not  a  direct  bearing  upon  the  strike.  They  are  in 
teresting  to  me  as  they  throw  light  on  the  charac 
ter  of  the  people  in  the  strike,  indirectly.  But 
after  careful  consideration,  I  have  concluded  that 
they  are  not  of  the  nature  of  evidence,  strictly  so 
called,  and  I  prefer  to  consider  them  as  confiden 
tial.  I  believe  I  am  acting  the  part  of  wisdom  in 
considering  them  as  confidential.  There  have  been 
enough  heart-burnings  caused  by  this  strike.  I  am 
not  willing  to  cause  more,  unnecessarily." 


232         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

The  sallow,  black-bearded  man  arose. 

"  I  should  like  to  ask,  Mr.  Chairman,  if  it  lies 
in  the  province  of  this  committee  to  decide  what  it 
shall  withhold  as  evidence  or  not  as  evidence  from 
this  meeting,  and  whether  indirect  testimony  has 
not  as  important  a  place  in  an  investigation  of 
this  kind  as  direct  testimony ;  and  whether  this 
committee  has  a  right  to  decide  which  shall  be 
called  direct  and  which  indirect." 

"  If  the  gentleman  would  kindly  state  his  objec 
tions  one  at  a  time,"  suggested  the  chairman. 

"  They  were  simply  questions,  Mr.  Chairman, 
not  objections,  if  you  please." 

A  frail  little  woman  with  a  sea-shell  complexion 
and  iron  gray  hair  took  the  floor  and  addressed 
herself  sidewise  towards  the  questioner. 

"  Each  one  of  us  must  of  course  be  guided  in  a 
report  of  this  kind,  which  is  a  revelation  of  the 
words  and  feelings  of  others,  by  their  individual 
conscience.  I  appreciate  Professor  Gillespie's  feel 
ing  in  this  matter  and  would  suggest  to  this  meet 
ing  that  as  we  had  sufficient  confidence  in  him  to 
appoint  him  chairman  of  our  committee  we  should 
now  give  an  example  of  our  confidence  by  respect 
ing  his  reticence  on  this  point." 

The  meeting  sat  in  silence  for  a  few  moments, 
baffled,  but  not  subdued. 

"  I  trust  I  shall  not  be  transgressing  respect  if 
I  ask  from  what  source  Professor  Gillespie  had 
this  indirect  testimony  which  he  does  not  regard 
in  the  nature  of  evidence."  The  speaker  was  a 


A  NON-COMMITTAL  COMMITTEE         233 

tall,  slow-moving,  clumsy  man  with  a  smooth  face, 
a  large  nose,  and  a  dome-like  forehead. 

"  From  the  manufacturer."  The  professor's 
eyes  shifted  as  he  answered,  and  he  did  not  re 
main  standing. 

"  From  Mr.  Watson  ?  " 

"  Yes !  " 

The  clumsy  man  asked  no  more  questions.  The 
expression  of  his  face  indicated  that  he  had  got  all 
the  information  he  wanted ;  it  also  indicated  what 
he  thought  of  that  information. 

Philip  now  returned  to  the  charge. 

"You  said  these  indirect  facts  threw  light  on 
the  character  of  the  people  in  the  strike.  Do  I 
understand  you  to  mean  the  working  people  ?  " 

"The  working  people  and  the  manufacturer 
also." 

"  And  that  light,  I  judge,  was  not  favorable  to 
both  sides  ?  " 

There  were  two  labor  men  sitting  a  little  apart 
in  the  back  of  the  room,  and  one  of  them  spoke. 

"  I  guess  we  all  know  where  that  light  lit  un 
favorable  if  old  Peter  flung  the  calcium,"  he  ob 
served. 

Those  members  of  the  audience  whose  instinct 
was  literary  gave  themselves  up  to  the  enjoyment 
of  the  moment ;  but  on  the  whole,  a  sense  of  hu 
mor  was  not  predominant  in  the  meeting. 

Philip  had  remained  standing. 

"  Does  Professor  Gillespie  still  feel  that  he  is 
justified  in  keeping  these  facts  to  himself  ?  " 


234         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

Philip's  face  was  curiously  pale,  and  alight  with 
an  exalted  severity.  The  audience  thought  he  was 
angry.  But  he  was  only  sorry  —  for  Agnes. 

The  professor  got  up  hastily,  his  face  was  crim 
son,  his  eyes  were  wide  and  bright  like  those  of  a 
creature  brought  to  bay. 

"  The  whole  affair  has  been  a  disgraceful  muddle 
from  beginning  to  end,"  he  exclaimed.  "  I  have 
reason  to  believe  that  the  alleged  cause  for  the 
strike,  the  union  principle,  was  not  the  real  cause, 
that  there  has  been  deliberate  deceit  practised." 

"  Maybe  there  has,"  said  the  labor  man,  speak 
ing  out  of  order,  "  but  it 's  not  been  all  on  our 
side  —  nor  a  half,  nor  a  quarter  on  our  side  ;  you 
can  stack  your  Bibles  if  you  like,  I  'm  ready." 

The  chairman  rapped  timidly  on  his  table  with 
a  lead  pencil. 

"  I  am  not  prepared  to  state  what  are  facts  and 
what  are  not  facts  in  this  evidence,"  continued  the 
professor.  "  I  have  not  had  time  to  sift  the  matter. 
For  personal  reasons  my  position  is  difficult  and, 
pardon  me,  very  unpleasant.  But  I  am  ready  to 
say  this  much :  that  I  have  been  agreeably  disap 
pointed  in  Mr.  "Watson,  the  manufacturer  in  ques 
tion.  In  my  interview  with  him  he  met  me  with  an 
ingenuousness  and  courtesy  such  as  I  could  hardly 
have  hoped  for  at  his  hands,  considering  the  errand 
on  which  I  was  bound.  My  opinion  of  his  ability 
and  his  benevolence  is  higher  than  it  was,  and  I 
have  much  to  thank  him  for.  I  can  appreciate,  as 
never  before,  that  there  is  an  employer's  side  in 
all  these  difficulties." 


A  NON-COMMITTAL  COMMITTEE         235 

He  sat  down  and  was  followed  on  the  floor  by  a 
young  architect  who  had  lately  caused  a  small  stir 
in  cultured  circles  by  refusing,  on  grounds  of 
aesthetic  socialism,  to  take  a  contract  for  a  fifteen- 
story  building. 

"  How  much  more  time  would  Professor  Gilles- 
pie  like  for  getting  his  evidence  into  shape  ?  If 
there  is  anything  picturesque  in  the  details  he  has 
picked  up  I  suppose  we  are  all  willing  to  wait." 

Then  the  professor  went  a  little  way  towards  re 
deeming  himself. 

"  As  these  meetings  were  first  held  with  the  idea 
of  giving  aid  to  the  strikers,"  he  said,  "  and  as  I 
have  not  been  able,  through  lack  of  time  and  other 
circumstances,  to  carry  out  the  requirements  of 
those  who  appointed  me  chairman  of  the  commit 
tee,  and  as  the  strike  has  failed  and  there  is  no 
longer  need  of  action  on  my  part,  I  beg  leave  to 
retire  from  my  position.  Allow  me  to  present  to 
my  committee  and  to  this  meeting  my  sincere  apo 
logies  and  regrets  for  the  inefficient  and  unsatis 
factory  manner  in  which  I  have  conducted  this 
investigation.  Your  disappointment,  your  disillu 
sion,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  is  not  deeper  than  my 
own." 

"  Mr.  Chairman,"  said  Philip,  "  I  accept  Mr. 
Gillespie's  explanation,  and  apologize  if  I  have 
seemed  discourteous.  I  was  not  aware  that  he  had 
personal  reasons.  I  presume  a  motion  to  adjourn 
is  in  order,  and  I  "  — 

"  Mr.  Chairman !  one  moment,  please."     It  was 


236         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

the  Professor  of  Moral  Philosophy  who  had  risen. 
"  Before  we  adjourn  may  it  not  be  fitting  to  say  that, 
although  this  strike  has  come  to  an  end  before  we, 
as  a  body,  have  come  to  a  decision  in  regard  to  it, 
nevertheless,  we  may  look  upon  it  as  a  lesson,  an 
experience  for  all  of  us,  a  widening  of  our  outlook 
upon  life?  And,  after  all,  this  is  the  important 
thing,  —  not  whether  strikes  fail,  or  whether  they 
succeed,  but  whether  we,  as  men  and  women,  have 
gained  in  moral  and  spiritual  growth  by  our  expe 
rience  of  them." 

"Do  you  make  this  as  a  motion?"  asked  the 
chairman. 

"  N-no,"  faltered  the  Professor  of  Moral  Philoso 
phy,  looking  a  little  dazed. 

"  Mr.  Chairman,  I  move  that  we  adjourn,"  said 
Philip. 

"  It  is  moved  that  we  adjourn,"  announced  the 
chairman.  "  All  those  in  favor  will  please  rise." 

Darting  glances  of  animosity  and  disgust  at  the 
chair,  the  audience  rose  as  a  body. 

"  All  those  opposed,"  —  but  nobody  listened  to 
him  any  more. 

"  Mr.  Kenyon,"  said  the  woman  who  had  moved 
adjournment  earlier  in  the  evening,  "  I  should  like 
to  know  what  has  become  of  those  strikers  who  did 
not  go  back  to  work." 

Christopher  looked  at  her  out  of  his  grave  eyes. 
"  Some  are  dead,  Mrs.  Burroughs.  —  Yes,  of  star 
vation,  I  presume.  One  or  two  are  in  jail  for 
assault  and  battery.  Quite  a  number  have  moved 


A  NON-COMMITTAL  COMMITTEE         237 

away  and  gotten  work  elsewhere,  or  else  they 
have  n't  gotten  work.  The  rest  have  disappeared." 

" You  mean?"  — 

"  I  don't  know  where  they  are." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Kenyon,  is  n't  there  something  we  can 
do?" 

"  We  had  our  chance,"  he  replied. 

"And  lost  it?" 

"  And  lost  it." 

"  But  you  don't  think  it  was  our  fault,  Mr.  Ken- 
yon  ?  We  were  willing." 

"  It  is  always  the  comunity's  fault,"  Christo 
pher  answered.  "  Whose  else  ?  It  is  true  that  one 
man  can  do  next  to  nothing,  but  all  men  can  do 
much  —  if  they  are  of  one  mind." 

"  But  we  were  not  in  a  position  to  understand 
the  rights  of  the  case." 

"  How  about  the  wrongs  ?  " 

"  And  some  of  them  have  actually  died,  Mr. 
Kenyon  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  but  the  ones  who  have  gone  back  to  work 
are  to  be  pitied  the  most.  They  will  not  die  of 
starvation,  they  will  only  starve,  body  and  soul." 

"  Ah  !  I  shall  not  sleep  to-night." 

His  answer  was  a  preoccupied  smile  and  a  slight 
bow,  and  he  moved  away. 

Agnes  was  clinging  to  his  arm. 

"Let  us  go  to  father,  Christopher!  He  is 
standing  over  there  all  alone,"  she  whispered. 

As  they  crossed  the  room  they  came  upon  the 
two  labor  men,  who  were  making  their  way  towards 


238         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

the  door.  The  one  who  had  spoken  in  the  meet 
ing  stopped  a  moment  to  say :  — 

"  Well,  Mr.  Kenyon,  he  bit  off  more  'n  he 
could  chew.  That 's  the  last  time  I  ever  trust  one 
of  'em.  They  ain't  got  any  backbone."  He  turned 
and  looked  at  the  professor  for  a  moment  silently, 
then  he  said  :  — 

"  Lord !  ain't  he  innocent !  " 


CHAPTER  IX 
HALF  MEASUEES 

OF  course  the  failure  of  the  strike  was  attended 
by  a  perfectly  logical  economic  result  —  old  Peter 
sold  his  shoes  at  a  lower  price  than  Christopher 
could  sell  his,  and  Christopher's  shoes  went  a-beg 
ging.  Agnes  was  disturbed  by  the  intensity  and 
subdued  excitement  in  her  husband's  manner  in 
these  days,  but  when  he  did  not  take  her  into 
his  confidence  she  asked  no  questions.  She  thought 
all  his  trouble  was  anger  against  her  father,  and 
she  respected  him  for  his  reticence.  Her  own  mind 
was  a  good  deal  taken  up  with  her  father.  She 
recognized  that  his  failure  in  handling  the  strike 
had  widened  the  rift  that  had  already  begun  to 
separate  her  from  him.  It  need  not  have  widened 
this  rift  had  her  father  chosen  to  take  himself 
differently.  But  his  pride  had  been  grievously 
hurt,  and  he  had  always  found  difficulty  in  put 
ting  himself  in  the  wrong.  That  his  conservatism 
should  grow  on  him  after  his  unpleasant  experience 
was  not  unnatural.  He  had  made  a  mistake ;  he 
had  laid  himself  open  to  ridicule ;  it  would  be  a 
long  time  before  he  ventured  to  make  another  mis 
take.  He  had  had  a  hint  that  something  —  he 


240         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

or  his  world  —  was  not  stable.  He  was  a  gentle, 
high-minded,  conscientious  man,  but  he  was  too 
much  of  a  figure  in  his  own  landscape  ;  he  played 
with  great  ideas  quite  seriously,  but  nothing  out 
side  himself  impelled  him  to  heroism.  Christopher, 
too,  was  disappointed  in  the  professor,  but  his  dis 
appointment  was  overlaid  by  a  heavier  burden. 
In  three  months  the  eldest  Loring  minor  would 
come  of  age,  and  the  trust  money  must  be  restored. 
At  present  the  trust  money  was  not  —  available. 
Christopher  had  not  as  yet  grasped  this  fact  in  its 
full  rounded  significance.  He  saw  it  on  its  commer 
cial  side  alone ;  he  had  never  seen  it  on  any  other 
side.  The  events  of  the  past  three  years  had  made 
him  a  financier  rather  than  a  moralist.  For  two 
years,  or  three  —  a  certain  vagueness  clouded  the 
details  of  this  period  —  the  Kenyon  shops  had 
run  without  a  profit,  but  they  had  continued  to 
run.  Kenyon  men  never  got  less  than  the  union 
rate  of  wages;  Kenyon  men  never  worked  more 
than  eight  hours  a  day.  Christopher  and  his  con 
fidential  bookkeeper  worked  considerably  more 
than  eight  hours,  especially  just  before  those  ap 
pointed  days  when  the  Loring  interest  fell  due, 
for  the  interest  had  to  be  paid  at  the  railroad  rates 
then  quoted,  even  though  the  trust  money  was  — 
invested  elsewhere  for  the  time  being.  In  three 
months  the  heir  was  to  assume  the  responsibility 
of  the  funds  on  behalf  of  his  mother  and  sisters. 

"  Men  have  paid  back  larger  sums  in  less  time," 
Christopher  assured  himself.     But  the  failure  of 


HALF  MEASURES  241 

the  strike  came  as  a  shock  to  him,  for  despite  his 
keenness  and  his  skepticism  he  had  unconsciously 
counted  on  success;  perhaps  because  he  had  no 
other  event  in  which  to  hope.  When  the  failure 
came  his  depression  and  anxiety  were  too  deep  to 
allow  him  to  hold  the  professor  responsible.  The 
professor  became  only  one  more  pitiful  victim  and 
tool  in  the  working  of  the  sullen  and  dominant 
power  which  was  darkening  Christopher's  horizon 
and  bearing  down  relentlessly  upon  him  and  all 
his  bright  efforts  for  social  regeneration. 

"  The  men  would  take  less,  for  a  while,  if  we 
asked  them  to,"  suggested  the  confidential  book 
keeper. 

"  We  shall  never  ask  them,"  Christopher  an 
swered,  black  obstinacy  lowering  in  his  eyes.  "  I 
shall  think  of  a  way.  Give  me  time.  We  have 
been  in  tight  places  before. 

"  Never  as  tight  as  this,"  said  the  confidential 
bookkeeper.  "I  —  good  God  !  Mr.  Kenyon,  I 
can't  sleep  nights,  thinking  of  this  thing." 

"Neither  can  I,"  replied  Christopher,  "but  we 
shall  weather  it." 

He  held  up  his  head  somewhat  after  the  fashion 
in  which  he  had  held  it  years  ago  when  he  smiled 
at  Philip  Starr's  unworldly  proposition  and  drove 
down  the  village  street  and  met  Agnes.  The 
world  had  given  him  six  months  to  break  in,  then  ; 
and  he  had  held  his  own  for  eleven  years  ;  he  had 
given  twelve  hundred  shoe  workers  eleven  years  of 
peace  and  plenty ;  he  had  made  the  workingmen 
his  friends. 


242         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

"  They  can't  touch  you,  you  know,  my  boy,  what 
ever  happens,"  he  added  and  turned  to  go. 

"  But  I  'm  thinking  of  you,  Mr.  Kenyon." 

Christopher  put  his  hand  on  the  young  man's 
shoulder.  This  was  a  village  boy  who  had  gone 
through  a  business  college  because  his  father 
worked  in  Kenyon  shops  and  could  afford  to  give 
him  a  chance. 

"  God  bless  you,  Sam !  "  said  his  master,  and 
then,  with  a  reassuring  smile  :  "  There  are  dozens 
of  men  in  the  United  States  to-day  in  just  the  same 
fix  as  I  am  ;  it 's  the  price  we  pay  for  competition. 
They  '11  come  through  —  so  shall  I.  Men  are 
coming  through  this  sort  of  crisis  every  day ;  we 
don't  hear  about  them  ;  we  only  hear  of  the  ones 
that  fail." 

He  walked  home  by  way  of  the  glen  and  the 
pool.  He  had  fallen  into  the  habit  of  coming 
round  this  way  and  sitting  alone  by  the  brookside, 
for  the  place  was  quiet.  In  his  study  he  felt  too 
near  his  wife.  But  to-day  as  he  sat  on  the  slant  of 
the  great  gray  rock  with  the  pool  beneath  him,  out  of 
sight,  his  son  came  through  the  underbrush  on  the 
other  side  of  the  waterfall  and  welcomed  him  with  a 
shout. 

"  How 's  this  ?  "  said  Christopher.  "  I  thought 
your  mother  had  forbidden  your  coming  to  the  glen 
alone." 

"  She 's  let  me  this  spring,  because  I  'm  bigger," 
explained  the  boy,  his  look  of  delight  fading  before 
his  father's  impatient  tone.  "  I  've  promised  to 


HALF  MEASURES  243 

never  go  on  the  big  gray  rock,  and  never  in  the 
water  below  the  stepping-stones.  And  I  never  do  ; 
truly.  But  "  —  with  his  head  on  one  side,  coax- 
ingly  —  "I could  come  over  on  it  if  you  are  there." 

"  Well,  come  ;  but  you  must  be  quiet." 

He  came  and  sat  at  his  father's  right  hand,  de 
murely  imitating  his  father's  pose.  He  was  more 
intimate  with  his  mother  and  his  uncle  Philip  than 
with  his  father,  and  he  loved  him,  therefore,  with 
a  more  romantic  affection.  He  had  gone  with 
Philip,  once,  to  see  some  men  in  Mr.  Watson's 
factory,  and  the  difference  between  the  conditions 
there  and  those  in  his  father's  shops,  the  difference 
between  the  people,  too,  had  made  a  strong  impres 
sion  upon  him. 

"  And  it  is  all  on  account  of  my  father  that 
things  are  so  different  in  our  factory  ?  "  the  boy 
questioned  his  uncle. 

"  All  on  account  of  your  father,"  Philip  an 
swered.  He  delighted  in  fostering  this  hero  wor 
ship  in  Christopher's  son. 

"  And  I  've  got  to  do  better  than  that,  you  say  !  " 
exclaimed  the  child.  "Oh,  my!  how  ever  can  I? 
Uncle  Philip,  did  anybody  ever  have  quite  such  a 
—  such  a  great  man  for  a  father  ?  " 

To-day  he  sat  reverently  beside  the  great  man, 
and  from  time  to  time  glanced  at  him,  but  did  not 
venture  to  break  the  silence.  At  last  Christopher, 
aware  of  these  glances,  smiled,  and  rumpled  the 
yellow  hair. 

"  Well,  so  you  've  decided  to  come  back  and 


244         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

live  with  us  a  little  while  longer  before  you  turn 
into  a  clergyman  like  uncle  Philip  ?  " 

"  I  'm  not  going  to  turn  into  a  clergyman  like 
uncle  Philip." 

"  No !     I  thought  that  was  aU  settled  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no !  I  never  promised  to  be  a  clergy 
man." 

Christopher  looked  down  at  his  son  in  amuse 
ment.  "  What  am  I  to  do  with  you  then  ?  " 

"  Take  me  into  the  business." 

Christopher  laughed  out  suddenly,  and  as  sud 
denly  hushed. 

"  You  don't  want  to  be  just  an  old  shoemaker 
like  your  father,"  he  said,  with  an  effort  at  a  ban 
tering  tone. 

"  Oh,  but  yes  I  do  !  "  returned  little  Christopher 
with  absolute  conviction.  Then  his  eyes  dilated 
and  his  cheeks  flushed,  and  he  rose  to  his  knees 
beside  his  father. 

"  Why !  I  'd  rather  be  like  you  than  anybody 
in  all  this  world.  You  're  the  most  —  oh,  the  most 
honorablest  man  there  is,  father  !  " 

Christopher's  eyes  were  set  upon  his  son  in  a 
fixed  stare,  a  dreadful  stare,  as  of  one  who  looks 
into  an  abyss.  But  the  little  boy,  occupied  with 
his  own  emotion,  blinded  by  an  inward  vision  of 
excellence,  missed  the  look,  and,  flinging  himself 
upon  his  father,  continued  his  innocent  rhapsody. 

"  You  're  carrying  the  burden  of  the  world,  you 
know,  and  I  've  got  to,  too,  because  I  'm  little 
Christopher.  Uncle  Philip  says  I  must  do  better 


HALF  MEASURES  245 

than  you,  because  I  'm  your  son,  and  sons  must 
always  do  better  than  their  fathers.  But  I  don't 
see  how  I  can,  father.  I  —  don't  —  see  —  how  — 
I  can  do  better  than  you." 

There  were  little  beads  of  moisture  on  Christo 
pher's  brow  and  in  the  hollows  of  his  temples. 
He  held  his  son  in  a  rigid,  mechanical  embrace, 
and  said  nothing. 

"  Uncle  Philip  says  we  've  got  to  keep  on  till  all 
the  men  in  the  world  run  their  shops  the  way  we 
run  Kenyon  shops.  All  the  men  in  the  world  — 
just  that  way  !  " 

"  A  better  way,"  said  his  father. 

"  A  better  way !  "  repeated  little  Christopher  in 
unbelieving  accents.  "  A  better  way  than  yours, 
father?" 

"  You  've  got  to  find  a  better  way  than  mine, 
Christopher.  Mine  is  a  bad  way."  He  took  the 
child's  head  between  his  hands  and  looked  straight 
into  the  dark  eyes  so  like  his  own.  "  A  bad  way," 
he  repeated ;  "  remember  that." 

He  lifted  the  boy  in  his  arms  and  carried  him 
off  the  gray  rock  and  through  the  underbrush  in 
silence.  On  the  open  lawn  at  the  back  of  the 
house  he  set  him  down  and  said  :  — 

"  Now  run  and  play  !  "  A  simple  mandate,  but 
one  quite  impossible  for  little  Christopher  to  obey 
under  the  circumstances. 

"  I  '11  ask  uncle  Philip,"  he  said  after  a  long 
period  of  solitary  meditation,  during  which  his 
little  mind  had  arrived  nowhere.  But  uncle 


246          THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

Philip  was  busy  and  did  not  come  to  Kenyon  for 
some  weeks. 

Christopher  went  to  seek  his  wife.  He  had  a 
half -formed  intention  of  telling  her  everything, 
and  yet  he  knew  he  should  not  do  it.  He  found 
her  in  their  own  room  reading  a  book  on  trusts, 
which  was  creating  a  ripple  even  beyond  economic 
circles.  He  threw  himself  on  the  sofa,  and  she 
laid  aside  her  book  and  came  to  sit  near  him 
with  some  sewing. 

"  Christopher,"  she  said,  "  don't  be  too  hard  on 
father." 

Her  husband  lifted  his  head  with  a  puzzled 
look.  After  a  moment  he  said,  "  Oh  !  "  and  fell 
back  again  on  the  sofa. 

"  I  am  quite  sure  that  whatever  father  may  do, 
whatever  mistakes  he  may  make,  he  is  always 
actuated  by  the  highest  motives,"  she  continued. 

"  And  high  motives  are  a  sufficient  excuse  for 
bad  actions?"  said  Christopher  musingly.  He 
was  not  thinking  of  her  father,  but  she  did  not 
know  that. 

She  cried  out,  "  Oh,  Christopher  !  "  involunta 
rily,  and  with  an  accent  of  pain  which  roused  him. 

"  My  beloved !  "  he  exclaimed,  drawing  her  to 
him,  "  you  misunderstood.  I  was  stupid !  Be 
lieve  me,  I  was  not  thinking  of  your  father  when 
I  said  those  words.  I  was  not  judging  him." 

She  let  herself  sink  down  on  the  floor  beside  the 
sofa,  and  rested  her  chin  on  his  breast,  scanning 
his  face. 


HALF  MEASURES  247 

"  The  strike  has  disappointed  me,  your  father's 
inability  to  act  has  disappointed  me ;  but  after 
all,  those  of  us  who  rush  into  action  don't  come 
off  any  more  gloriously,  and  my  disappointment 
in  your  father  is  only  a  small  affair  in  my  con 
sciousness.  Don't  let  it  trouble  you,  dearest.  I 
am  so  much  more  disappointed  in  other  things. 
When  a  man  has  failed  himself  in  his  great  need, 
he  has  little  heart  to  blame  others  for  failing  him 
also." 

"  You  have  not  failed  yourself,  my  husband !  " 
she  said  with  grave  assurance. 

«  Yes,  I  have." 

"  You  have  not  failed  me !  " 

He  took  her  head  between  his  hands  as  he  had 
taken  the  boy's ;  he  kissed  her  on  her  eyes,  her 
throat,  her  lips,  very  gently. 

"We  are  in  a  bad  way,"  he  said. 

"  We  have  been  before,"  she  answered.  "  It  is 
only  your  natural  despondency  that  unnerves  you 
now,  —  you,  who  can  hope  so  high  !  " 

"  Beloved,  I  have  hoped  too  high.  I  have  been 
proud  —  as  Lucifer.  And  now  I  cannot  hope  any 
more." 

"You  know  that  is  not  true,"  she  whispered, 
brushing  his  cheek  with  a  butterfly  touch  as  she 
bent  over  him,  moving  her  lips.  "  You  know  you 
are  hoping  now,  planning,  finding  a  way.  What 
is  it  at  this  time  that  is  so  urgent  ?  " 

"Agnes,  I  must  have  money  to  pay  a  loan,  a 
large  loan.  And  Watson  has  caught  the  market." 


248          THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

"  A  large  loan  ?  You  never  told  me.  When 
did  you  borrow  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  a  business  man  borrows  more  or  less  all 
the  time,"  he  returned  evasively;  "it's  a  part  of 
the  system." 

"  But  can't  you  pay  the  interest,  or  renew,  or 
something,  the  way  you  've  done  other  times  ?  " 

"  No ;  this  time  the  principal  must  be  paid.  I 
—  I  won't  go  into  the  details  ;  it 's  a  complicated 
affair  ;  you  would  n't  understand.  But  —  I  've  got 
to  find  the  money." 

"  When  must  it  be  paid  ?    To-morrow  ?  " 

He  was  nervous  and  unstrung  —  he  almost 
laughed. 

"  No ;  in  three  months." 

"  Oh  !  three  months !  But  of  course  you  '11  do 
it  in  three  months.  I  knew  it  would  turn  out  less 
black  than  you  pictured  it.  You  are  always  such 
a  faithless  giant.  Three  months  !  The  idea !  " 

"  But  the  season  is  almost  over,  Agnes ;  the 
runners  are  coming  in  every  day,  and  they  have 
sold  next  to  nothing." 

."  Can't  the  banks  help  you? " 

"  They  '11  have  to,  if  anything  does.  But  I 
don't  want  to  show  them  the  books."  His  eye 
fell  before  her  questioning  glance.  "  I  don't 
want  them  to  see  how  little  we  've  made  these  last 
years,  dearest.  I  don't  care  to  have  them  know 
that  we  've  been  running  on  no  profits.  They  — 
they  would  n't  understand,  you  know  —  they  are  n't 
used  to  men  who  —  who  don't  mind  doing  business 
that  way." 


HALF  MEASURES  249 

"  But  it 's  an  honest  business,"  she  cried  in 
dignantly,  and  again  he  could  not  lift  his  eyes 
to  hers.  "  If  you  could  show  profits  like  Peter 
Watson's,  that  would  indeed  be  something  to  be 
ashamed  of.  Christopher,  show  them  those  books  ! 
It  will  give  those  greedy  bank  directors  a  lesson. 
Perhaps  it  will  bring  about  a  change  of  heart  in 
them."  She  smiled  and  kissed  him. 

"  You  don't  understand,"  he  reiterated. 

"  What  don't  I  understand  ?  "  she  asked  softly, 
and  waited,  watching  him.  But  he  kept  his  eyes 
lowered,  and  did  not  answer.  "  Is  there  some 
thing  else  ?  " 

"  Yes,  there  is  something  else." 

"  Is  it  the  something  that  I  have  been  waiting 
for  you  to  tell  me  for  months  and  months,  and  you 
have  had  it  on  your  lips  to  tell  me  and  in  your 
eyes  to  tell  me,  but  you  have  never  told  ?  " 

He  looked  up  at  her,  startled,  terrified. 

"  Yes,  it  is  that,"  he  replied,  and  raised  himself 
on  his  elbow,  frightened  at  himself,  at  the  pos 
sibility  that  he  might  be  going  to  tell  her  this 
thing. 

"  It  has  troubled  you,  and  I  have  wanted  to 
share  the  trouble,"  she  whispered,  putting  her 
arms  around  his  neck.  "  I  have  been  lonely  in 
this  mist  that  was  somehow  between  us.  If  I  had 
not  known  you  for  what  you  are  I  might  have 
thought  you  were  keeping  it  from  me  because  it 
was  something  wrong.  There  have  been  times 
when  that  thought  has  crossed  me,  —  that  it  was 


250         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

something  wrong.  Forgive  me,  Christopher.  It 
was  not  a  real  thought;  I  never  really  believed 
such  a  thing  of  you,  my  husband ;  it  was  only  a 
flash  of  unruly  imagination  tempting  me.  One's 
mind  is  such  a  curious  place.  I  have  prayed  for 
us  both ;  I  thought,  I  wanted  to  think,  that  it  was 
because  you  were  in  need  of  —  of  God.  Forgive 
me !  You  are  doing  this  work  so  much  alone,  and 
it  makes  me  tremble  because  I  don't  believe  even 
you  can  do  it  alone  with  just  human  strength. 
You  are  such  a  good  man,  and  you  are  trying  to 
lift  such  a  heavy  weight,  —  all  alone.  But  I  have 
not  believed  that  it  was  a  wrong  thing  you  would 
not  tell  me.  I  am  only  trying  to  explain.  You 
are  not  disappointed  ?  You  do  not  believe  I  ever 
really  doubted  you  ?  Now  —  tell  me  this  thing." 

Christopher  sat  up  and  took  her  in  her  arms  a 
moment  with  a  laugh  and  a  kiss. 

"I  am  going  to  try  the  bank,"  he  said;  "we 
shall  come  through  yet."  And  he  went  down  to 
his  study. 


CHAPTER  X 
THE  HELPING  HAND 

BUT  to  say  truth,  Christopher  had  already  come 
into  closer  contact  with  the  bank  than  was  pru 
dent.  The  Loring  interest  had  been  obtained  by 
notes  of  hand,  some  of  which  were  approaching 
their  second  maturity,  and  to  ask  for  more  time 
was  certain  to  excite  suspicion.  Hitherto  Christo 
pher  had  kept  his  fingers  off  aunt  Ada's  little  com 
petence  ;  but  now  he  took  her  stocks  and  bonds, 
and  those  of  her  old  schoolmate,  and  sold  them 
through  a  broker,  —  as  he  had  sold  the  Loring 
funds  on  a  previous  occasion.  Having  by  this 
means  squared  himself  with  the  bank  in  regard  to 
the  notes  of  hand,  he  decided  to  venture  the  new 
loan.  The  amount  he  must  ask  for  made  him 
sick,  but  there  was  no  other  way  out.  He  knew 
that  rumor  had  begun  to  be  busy  with  his  name, 
that  men  were  talking  about  him  idly.  The  broker 
who  disposed  of  the  stocks  may  have  taken  a  dis 
passionate  interest  in  public  affairs,  —  in  strikes, 
and  shoe  markets,  and  trust  funds,  —  or  he  may 
have  been  simply  loquacious.  Christopher  waited 
longer  than  he  could  afford  to,  thinking  the  wave 
of  gossip  would  subside.  One  day  young  Loring 


252          THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

called  to  take  a  lesson  in  managing  his  own  affairs, 
—  came  all  the  way  down  to  Kenyon  to  take  this 
lesson.  Christopher  carried  him  home  to  dinner, 
showed  him  the  garden  and  the  glen,  and  kept  the 
conversation  on  athletics  and  Kipling.  The  next 
day  he  opened  negotiations  for  the  loan,  and,  hav 
ing  offered  to  make  showing  of  his  business,  he 
turned  the  strong  and  apparently  solvent  side  of 
it  towards  the  bank.  Then  the  bank's  finance 
committee  being  in  session,  one  of  its  members  ex 
pired  of  apoplexy  in  the  presence  of  his  colleagues, 
and,  after  the  unavoidable  delay  occasioned  by 
courtesy  and  the  shock,  Peter  Watson  was  chosen 
in  the  room  of  the  deceased  member.  Christo 
pher's  first  knowledge  of  this  latter  event  came  in 
the  form  of  a  polite  note  from  old  Peter,  request 
ing  an  interview  with  Mr.  Kenyon,  and  informing 
him  that  in  writing  this  note  his  correspondent 
acted  in  no  way  for  the  bank,  but  entirely  out  of 
personal  interest  in  his  old  friend's  son.  Chris 
topher  telephoned  his  wife  that  he  was  called  to 
town  on  business,  and  might  be  kept  over  night. 
She  asked  no  questions,  because  the  telephone  girl 
was  not  kept  very  busy  in  Kenyon,  and  had  been 
known  to  retail  messages.  She  dreaded  many 
things,  but,  fortunately,  not  the  right  one. 

In  the  train,  Christopher  occupied  himself  with 
wondering  whether  old  Peter  really  knew,  or 
whether  he  was  only  trying  to  find  out. 

"  I  might  test  his  benevolence  by  offering  to 
borrow  from  him,"  he  thought,  and  a  grim  smile 


THE  HELPING  HAND  263 

flitted  across  his  lips.  "  I  suppose  this  note  means 
he  won't  stand  up  for  me  with  the  bank.  Well,  if 
he  does  n't  "  —  Christopher's  mind  became  a  con 
fused  hurly-burly  of  rejected  half  measures.  "  Just 
give  me  time  and  I  '11  think  my  way  out." 

For  weeks  the  plan  that  was  to  save  him,  and 
his  industrial  enterprise,  and  his  family,  had  seemed 
to  hover  on  the  threshold  of  his  consciousness  ;  but 
it  did  not  enter. 

As  he  walked  through  the  yard  of  Watson's  fac 
tory,  a  man  spoke  to  him,  —  a  man  he  had  seen  at 
labor  union  meetings. 

"  We  're  downed  this  time,  Mr.  Kenyon,"  said 
the  man,  "  but  we  '11  be  at  it  again,  and  we  won't 
make  the  same  mistakes  next  time." 

The  words  heartened  Christopher,  and  sent  him 
into  old  Peter's  presence  with  a  brave  front. 

"  All !  I  'm  obliged  to  you  for  coming  so  soon," 
exclaimed  the  old  gentleman.  "  I  hardly  expected 
you  before  noon  ;  did  n't  know  you  could  get  away 
so  easily." 

"  The  morning  trains  run  every  half  hour,"  re 
plied  Christopher.  "  I  inferred  from  your  note 
that  the  business  might  be  urgent." 

"  No  —  no,"  said  old  Peter,  affecting  noncha 
lance.  "  I  'm  sorry  if  I  hurried  you." 

"  I  was  not  hurried ;  it  was  perfectly  convenient 
for  me  to  come." 

Christopher  had  taken  a  chair  at  one  side  of  the 
manufacturer's  desk.  The  two  men  were  silent 
for  a  moment,  and  then  old  Peter  spoke,  stretch- 


264          THE   BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

ing  his  arm  along  the  desk  towards  his  guest,  —  a 
friendly  gesture. 

"  The  fact  is,  my  boy,  you  're  in  a  tight  place." 

Christopher  took  a  step  in  the  dark. 

"  Yes,  I  am,"  he  answered,  and  waited. 

"  I  knew  it,"  returned  Watson,  but  in  the  tone 
of  one  who  had  wanted  confirmation. 

Christopher  breathed  more  freely.  "  Perhaps 
he  does  not  really  know,"  he  thought.  Aloud  he 
adopted  the  friendly  tone  of  his  competitor.  "  You 
think  you  can  get  this  money  for  me,  Mr.  Wat 
son?" 

"I  have  nothing  to  do  with  it,  you  know," 
deprecated  old  Peter.  "  It  is  entirely  with  the 
bank,  and  being  but  just  appointed  on  the  finance 
committee  I  should  hesitate  to  —  to  "  —  He  did 
not  say  what  he  should  hesitate  to  do,  although 
Christopher  waited  a  minute  to  find  out. 

"  What  I  thought  when  I  sent  you  that  note," 
he  resumed,  "  was  that  I  might  be  able  to  prevent 
the  necessity  of  your  borrowing  at  least  such  a 
large  sum  from  the  bank.  It  Va  very  large  sum." 
He  scanned  his  visitor's  face  keenly.  "  Perhaps 
my  proposition  is  irregular  from  a  business  point 
of  view,  but  for  your  father's  sake  "  — 

"  This  is  most  kind,  most  generous  of  you ! " 
exclaimed  Christopher,  feigning  spontaneity.  In 
his  heart  he  was  questioning  :  Is  he  sorry  for  me  ? 
Can  it  be  that  he  is  going  to  help  me  out  ?  " 

Peter  smiled  quizzically.  "  Is  the  new  school 
of  industry  the  only  one  that  is  to  be  allowed  to 


THE  HELPING  HAND  255 

practice  generosity  ?  "  he  asked.  "  You  did  n't  ex 
pect  it  of  me,  did  you  ?  Well,  well ;  I,  too,  thought 
that  I  was  an  old  wise  man  at  forty.  Now,  let  us 
see  what  we  can  do.  Come,  tell  me  all  about  it !  " 

Christopher  felt  his  heart  shrink,  contract.  He 
and  old  Peter  looked  at  each  other  steadily  from 
beneath  low-drawn  eyebrows. 

"  Still,  you  are  my  competitor,"  said  Christo 
pher.  The  effort  to  breathe,  to  keep  his  voice  in 
order,  made  his  head  ring. 

"  I  had  thought  your  difficulty  might  not  be 
directly  connected  with  competition,"  suggested 
old  Peter.  His  tone  was  very  smooth  ;  it  startled 
Christopher,  but  it  angered  him  too,  and  sent  the 
blood  to  his  face. 

"  All  my  difficulties  are  connected  with  competi 
tion,"  he  said  hotly. 

"  Hm  —  I  remember ;  you  young  reformers  make 
competition  cover  a  multitude  of  sins."  There  was 
a  hard  look  in  the  old  gentleman's  eyes. 

"  God !  he  knows  !  "  thought  Christopher  ;  but 
the  next  moment  he  was  doubting  again. 

"  Mr.  Watson,"  he  said,  holding  his  head  high, 
"  I  owe  a  large  sum  of  money :  I  have  made  a  bad 
investment ;  you  have  taken  the  market  away  from 
me  ;  you  have  undersold  me  ;  you  have  ruined  my 
this  year's  business  ;  I  cannot  pay  this  money  that 
I  owe.  Now  will  you  help  me  out  ?  " 

"  What  securities  do  you  offer  ?  " 

"  I  have  laid  my  securities  before  the  bank." 

There  came  into  old  Peter's  eyes  the  shadow  of 


256          THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

a  smile  that  said  as  plain  as  words  could  have  said 
it,  "  Do  you  take  me  for  a  fool  ? "  and  as  he 
smiled  old  Peter  shook  his  head  gently,  and  tapped 
on  the  table  with  a  pencil. 

"  I  have  been  led  to  suppose  that  the  bank  was 
satisfied  with  these  securities,  Mr.  Watson." 

And  still  the  old  man  shook  his  head  and  smiled. 
"  What  had  you  in  mind  if  the  bank  did  n't  see  its 
way  towards  granting  this  loan  ?  "  he  said  at  last. 

"  I  do  not  see  that  our  relations  justify  me  in 
answering  that  question."  Christopher  assumed  an 
expression  of  dignity  as  he  made  this  reply. 

"I  cannot  be  expected  to  lend  money  at  hap 
hazard,"  began  the  old  gentleman  after  a  pause. 
"  For  all  I  know,  this  money  may  go  to  bolster  up 
your  enterprise,  and  —  there  is  no  harm  in  say 
ing  it  —  I  think  we  both  know  I  don't  approve  of 
your  way  of  doing  business."  So  many  of  Peter's 
remarks  had  a  double  meaning  for  Christopher! 
They  stung  him,  maddened  him. 

"  The  proposition  came  unasked  from  you,  sir !  " 
he  exclaimed,  rising  and  taking  his  hat. 

"  True,  and  I  have  not  withdrawn  it.  Sit  down, 
sit  down !  A  man  in  as  tight  a  place  as  you  are 
can't  afford  to  take  offense  when  his  theories  are 
criticised." 

"  May  I  ask  in  how  tight  a  place  you  assume 
me  to  be  ?  " 

Peter  twinkled  genially.  "As  tight  as  your 
temper,"  he  suggested,  and  Christopher  sat  down, 
remembering  that  this  was  an  old  man. 


THE  HELPING  HAND  257 

"  Mr.  Kenyon,  I  like  you.  I  told  your  friend 
the  clergyman  so  years  ago  when  you  were  start 
ing  out  on  this  venture.  I  asked  him  to  warn 
you ;  but  he  had  a  bee  in  his  bonnet  too.  You  've 
made  an  interesting  fight.  I'm  willing  to  ac 
knowledge  you  are  something  more  than  a  dreamer. 
I  like  you.  Mr.  Kenyon,  what  should  you  say  to 
me  if  I  were  to  make  you  a  proposition  something 
like  this :  I  am  enlarging  my  business ;  sell  me 
your  plant ;  sell  me  your  machinery,  your  build 
ings,  what  stock  you  have  on  hand,  and  —  begin 
over  again.  I  will  buy  you  out  for  half  the 
amount  you  wish  to  get  from  the  bank.  Perhaps 
I  can  prevail  on  the  committee  to  let  you  have  the 
other  half.  This  is  an  unworldly  proposition,  I 
admit.  But  I  like  you.  What  do  you  think  of 
it?" 

"  I  think,"  said  Christopher,  with  a  smile,  "  that 
I  am  more  of  an  obstacle  to  you  commercially 
than  I  had  flattered  myself  I  was,  since  you  wish 
to  buy  me  out." 

Peter  leaned  his  elbow  on  the  desk,  rested  his 
chin  in  his  hand,  and  looked  straight  at  Christo 
pher  with  narrow  eyes.  "  Think  again,"  he  said. 

There  was  a  threat  in  his  voice. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  demanded  Christopher 
haughtily. 

"  I  said  this  was  an  unworldly  proposition,  Mr. 
Kenyon.  You  are  in  a  tight  place.  Are  there 
no  other  ways  in  which  I  could  obtain  possession 
of  your  plant  if  I  wanted  to  ?  " 


258         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

Christopher  sat  perfectly  still,  his  nostrils  di 
lated,  his  eyes,  after  one  flash  of  fear,  carefully 
lowered  upon  a  spot  on  the  floor.  When  he  could 
trust  his  voice  he  answered  :  — 

"  If  there  are,  you  would  better  take  advantage 
of  them,  for  I  shall  never  sell." 

"  Don't  be  a  fool !  "  said  old  Peter. 

"  What  should  I  be  to  sell  twelve  hundred  men 
into  slavery  ?  Men  who  believe  in  me ;  men  whom 
I  have  educated  to  carry  out  the  principles  that  I 
believe  are  honest.  Yes,  I  have  made  a  mistake. 
I  have  not  been  radical  enough.  If  I  were  to  do 
it  over  again  I  should  do  it  differently.  I  should 
give  up  all,  divide  the  capital,  and  take  my  share. 
I  have  kept  too  much  power  in  my  own  hands ; 
I  have  not  been  equal  to  the  responsibility ;  the 
men  ought  to  have  shared  it.  But  I  was  very  far 
from  my  people  at  first.  I  was  a  college  man 
and  I  could  not  trust  them.  It  seemed  as  if  judg 
ment  rested  only  with  the  learned.  I  have  made  a 
mistake.  I  have  mismanaged  for  them,  I  have 
ignored  them,  and  now  you  ask  me  to  betray  them 
as  well.  They  trust  me  !  " 

"  There  speaks  the  dreamer !  But  is  it  not  true 
that  their  situation  will  be  the  same  whether  you 
sell  to  me  or  whether  you  do  not  ?  How  much 
longer  do  you  expect  to  run  your  business  if  you 
do  not  get  this  loan  ?  How  much  longer  do  you 
expect  to  even  if  you  do  get  it  ?  Frankly,  is  not 
your  scheme  already  a  failure,  Mr.  Kenyon  ?  " 

"  No  I  my  scheme  will  only  be  a  failure  when  it 


THE  HELPING  HAND  259 

convinces  my  men  that  the  present  commercial  sys 
tem  is  a  righteous  one.  If  my  shoe  factory  must 
be  bankrupt  and  my  workmen  must  starve,  it 
shall  be  the  world's  fault,  not  mine.  And  my 
men  shall  recognize  that  it  is  the  world's  fault. 
My  scheme  has  hardly  been  more  than  a  protest, 
but  as  a  protest  it  shall  not  be  in  vain.  It  is 
considered  a  crime  to  murder  a  man  ;  but  to  mur 
der  whole  hundreds  and  thousands  of  men,  women, 
and  children,  by  slow  starvation,  bad  air,  unwhole 
some  labor,  that  one  or  two  men  may  grow  rich 
and  sleek,  and  morally  stultified,  —  this  is  legiti 
mate."  Sleek  was  a  good  word  to  apply  to  old 
Peter. 

Christopher  glanced  out  of  the  window,  where, 
across  the  yard,  the  ugly  factory  whirred,  and  hun 
dreds  of  human  beings  worked,  and  sickened,  and 
starved  for  bread  and  for  love.  Then  he  turned 
and  looked  at  its  master. 

"A  man  may  not  break  open  his  neighbor's 
house,"  Christopher  continued,  "  and  take  his  bric- 
abrac,  but  he  may,  without  fear  of  criticism,  cheat 
his  workmen  of  their  living  wage  in  order  to  make 
the  same  profit  in  a  bad  year  that  he  does  in  a 
good  year."  He  stood  on  his  feet  the  better  to 
make  his  defense.  "The  world  may  no  longer 
burn  martyrs  at  the  stake,  but  it  may  still  perse 
cute  by  competitive  methods  any  individual  who 
tries  to  do  business  so  that  his  fellow  men  may 
have  a  chance  as  well  as  himself.  It  is  the  world's 
fault  if  I  have  failed !  it  is  the  world's  fault !  " 


260         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

"  Nevertheless,  you  are  not  the  man  to  say  it." 

The  dry  tone  put  an  end  to  Christopher's  elo 
quence,  dropped  him  down  to  the  flat,  gray  level 
of  his  sin,  and  the  realization  that  old  Peter  knew. 
He  began  to  pace  the  office  rapidly. 

"  I  repeat,  that  you  are  not  the  man  to  make 
this  arraignment,"  said  old  Peter.  "  Much  that 
you  say  is  true  theoretically.  Whether  we  are 
going  to  mend  it  by  giving  the  brutal  instincts 
and  the  unreason  of  the  lower  classes  freer  play 
than  they  already  have,  I  take  the  liberty  to  doubt. 
Whether  your  moral  lesson  to  your  men  is  going 
to  be  as  complete  as  you  think  it  will  be,  I  also 
doubt,  considering  your  own  methods  of  meeting 
the  world's  'persecution.'  However,  the  morals 
of  the  workingman  are  already  twisted ;  your  ex 
ample  may  not  do  much  more  harm." 

Christopher  stopped  in  his  walk  and  faced  the 
old  man  with  an  oath. 

"  I  know  I  am  speaking  plainly,  Mr.  Kenyon, 
but  you  have  spoken  plainly  too.  You  say  that 
the  failure  of  your  business  is  the  world's  fault. 
Is  the  loss  of  the  Loring  money  also  the  world's 
fault?" 

Christopher  turned  white  and  his  eyes  blazed 
with  fury.  "  How  long  have  you  been  prying  into 
my  affairs  ?  "  he  said  quietly. 

"Not  prying;  only  putting  two  and  two  to 
gether.  That  was  a  very  large  sum  of  money  to 
borrow,  as  I  remarked  before,  —  suspiciously  large. 
You  have  lost  your  sense  of  proportion,  Mr.  Ken- 


THE  HELPING  HAND  261 

yon.  Is  it  nothing  to  use  money  that  does  not 
belong  to  you  ?  Is  it  nothing  to  reduce  a  trusting 
woman  and  her  tender  offspring  to  beggary  ?  Is 
it  nothing  to  obtain  money  under  false  pretenses  ? 
Is  it  nothing  to  drag  your  father's  honest  name  in 
the  dust  and  to  bring  disgrace  upon  your  wife  and 
your  son  ?  " 

Christopher  flung  up  his  arms  with  a  gesture  of 
torture  and  appeal,  and  continued  his  walk  with 
his  hands  at  his  temples  and  his  fingers  digging 
into  his  face. 

"  I  gave  you  an  opportunity  to  avoid  this  plain 
speaking.  I  offered  you  an  honorable  way  out  of 
the  difficulty;  an  opportunity  to  save  your  wife 
and  child,  to  keep  your  name  stainless  before  the 
world.  Mr.  Kenyon,  you  are  hardly  more  than  forty 
years  old.  Take  care  how  you  fling  yourself  away ; 
take  care  how  you  fling  away  your  son's  future. 
You  have  a  duty  to  that  son  as  well  as  to  these 
twelve  hundred  ungrateful  leeches  that  have  fed 
on  you  for  the  last  eleven  years.  Mr.  Kenyon,  I 
offer  you  this  opportunity  again.  Think  of  your 
son.  Let  the  workingmen  stand  on  their  own 
feet.  Sell  me  your  plant  and  I  will "  — 

"No!  No!  No!"  shouted  Christopher.  "You 
miserable  tempting  devil !  You  damned  white 
washed  hypocrite  !  You  accuse  me  of  sin  !  You ! 
How  many  widows  and  orphans  have  you  cheated, 
old  man  ?  How  many  young  manufacturers  beside 
myself  have  you  wrecked  and  driven  into  the  pit  ? 
How  many  men,  women,  and  children  in  this  last 


262         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

strike  died  of  slow  starvation,  or  went  to  prison 
for  theft  and  assault?  How  many  workingmen 
are  starving  now  on  the  miserable  pittance  you 
have  called  a  wage  since  you  broke  the  strike  ? 
You  believe  in  a  God  and  a  mercy-seat,  and  so 
much  the  worse  for  you !  Don't  venture  to  bear 
testimony  against  me  in  high  places,  old  man  !  I 
have  cast  my  lot  in  with  the  workers,  and  with 
them  I  stay.  There  was  no  other  way  out ;  there 
was  no  other  way ;  I  tried  to  find  one.  The  sys 
tem  and  men  like  you  have  made  righteous  living 
impossible.  And  my  sin  be  on  whose  shoulders 
your  God  chooses,  but  I  can  bear  it  better  than 
I  could  bear  yours." 

Old  Peter  sat  alone  in  his  office  and  passed  his 
hand  several  times  across  his  forehead.  Hard 
words  are  disturbing,  even  though  they  do  not 
strike  deep ;  and  a  callous  old  man  may  also  be 
plaintive.  He  wrote  a  note  to  Philip  Starr,  in 
which  he  said :  "  Our  friend  Christopher  has  made 
his  choice.  I  think  he  may  need  you.  He  seemed 
quite  beside  himself.  I  have  done  all  that  a  Chris 
tian  could  be  expected  to  do  under  the  circum 
stances,  and  my  advances  have  been  met  with 
vituperation.  Now  see  what  you  can  do."  He 
mailed  this  note  on  his  way  to  the  bank.  Philip 
got  it  the  next  morning. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  WAY  OF  THE  TRANSGRESSOR 

FOR  ten  minutes  after  Christopher  went  out  of 
Peter  Watson's  office  he  was  as  unaware  of  him 
self  and  his  surroundings  as  a  man  in  a  dead  faint. 
He  neither  thought  nor  felt  nor  saw ;  he  only 
walked,  straight  ahead,  with  a  slow,  lagging  step 
and  blank  eyes.  He  had  gone  the  length  of  the 
dreary  little  park  where  Jeanie  had  lodged  in  the 
winter,  he  had  climbed  an  arid  suburban  hill,  before 
his  mind  stirred.  Then  he  sat  down  mechanically 
on  a  block  of  granite  near  a  half -built  house,  and 
wiped  his  forehead  with  his  handkerchief.  It  was 
early  June  and  midday,  but  time  and  place  had  gone 
out  for  Christopher;  he  had  begun  to  walk  in 
eternity.  During  the  remainder  of  that  long  day 
he  neither  looked  at  his  watch  nor  ate  any  food. 
From  time  to  time  as  he  wandered  through  the 
streets,  the  sights  and  sounds  of  the  city  were 
borne  in  upon  him,  he  heard  and  saw  and  consid 
ered  them,  but  he  had  done  with  them,  not  con 
sciously,  not  by  his  own  will,  but  as  it  were  inevi 
tably. 

"  I  am  what  is  called  a  bad  man,"  he  said 
to  himself  at  last,  getting  up  from  the  block  of 


264         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

granite  and  walking  down  the  hill.  "  I  am  a  de 
faulter,  a  criminal,  a  thief!  But  this  is  impos 
sible  !  I  am  an  honorable  man  —  a  gentleman. 
I  have  no  evil  in  my  heart  towards  man  or  all  the 
world." 

"I  do  not  understand  how  this  thing  came 
about.  I  have  lost  its  beginning.  If  I  could  but 
remember  when  it  began  to  be  a  crime !  But  I 
cannot." 

"Let  me  think.  In  the  beginning  it  was  not 
a  crime.  I  swear  to  God  it  was  not  a  crime  in 
the  beginning.  Would  I  —  I,  Christopher  Ken- 
yon,  have  committed  a  crime  ?  The  thing  is  pre 
posterous,  unimaginable.  When  did  it  change? 
For  I  have  not  changed.  I  cannot  remember  — 
anything  about  it  —  why  I  told  myself  I  could  do 
it.  If  I  could  recall  the  reasoning  now,  the  justi* 
fication  —  I  know  there  is  a  justification.  I  know ! 
But  I  cannot  remember  the  defense.  It  has  gone 
from -me." 

"  Perhaps,  after  all,  crime  is  always  nothing  more 
than  this.  Perhaps  they  all  feel  this  way,  —  all 
those  other  men." 

"  Not  guilty !  Not  guilty !  I  do  not  understand 
why  I  am  guilty.  I  do  not  understand !  Neither 
does  the  world.  The  world  is  twisted.  It  calls 
this  sin.  This !  —  But  I  could  not  commit  sin  —  I !  " 

"  Ruffians,  villains  —  these  are  sinners.  But  I 
am  clean.  Who  shall  look  into  my  soul  and  say 
I  am  not  clean  ? — O  God,  what  is  sin  ?  I  cannot 
seem  to  understand." 


THE  WAY  OF  THE  TRANSGRESSOR      265 

"  Let  me  think  !  I  have  taken  that  which  does 
not  belong  to  me.  But  I  had  a  reason  ?  Surely, 
I  had  a  reason  ?  The  men  ?  Yes,  but  there  was 
some  other?  deeper,  more  convincing?  And  it 
was  not  a  crime  then,  in  the  beginning  ?  " 

"  If  I  could  only  remember  these  last  three 
years!  But  they  are  gone.  I  think  I  was  not 
awake.  I  did  not  know  what  I  was  doing.  I 
have  been  walking  in  my  sleep,  and  I  have  sinned." 

He  was  sauntering  past  a  long  reach  of  cheap 
shops  in  one  of  the  broad  thoroughfares  that  had 
developed  slum  spots  at  intervals  along  its  length 
as  it  traversed  the  city.  He  saw  a  dirty  little 
fellow  take  a  plum  off  a  pile  on  a  fruit-stand  and 
run  into  a  court. 

"  Just  so,"  he  thought,  "  and  I  suppose  he  ought 
not  to  have  taken  the  plum  ;  but  these  things  are 
done  so  quickly,  and,  after  all,  they  mean  nothing. 
I  cannot  see  that  they  mean  anything.  I  wonder 
what  they  will  mean  to  Agnes !  " 

He  stopped  and  looked  for  a  long  time  into  a 
baker's  window. 

"  This  will  not  make  any  difference  to  her  ;  she 
is  my  wife ;  she  will  see  how  it  is  impossible  that 
I  can  be  a  criminal.  I  am  not  afraid  that  Agnes 
will  not  see  —  brave  little  Agnes,  who  dwells  for 
ever  at  the  heart  of  a  flame." 

"  I  would  not  tell  her  before.  I  cannot  think 
why  it  was  that  I  would  not  tell  her.  But  she  has 
told  me  she  believed  in  me." 

"  Let  me  think !    What  was  it  she  said  ?    Some- 


266         THE  BURDEN   OF  CHRISTOPHER 

thing  about  her  imagination,  and  knowing  all  the 
while  I  had  done  nothing  wrong.  And  yet  I  have. 
What  will  she  say  ?  What  will  Agnes  say  ?  " 

He  turned  away  from  the  baker's  window  and 
went  on  down  the  street.  A  woman,  passing, 
looked  at  him,  his  face  was  so  openly  a  face  of 
grief. 

"  I  think  I  will  get  the  men  to  explain  it  to 
Agnes,"  he  continued ;  "  the  men  will  understand. 
I  did  it  for  the  men ;  they  will  see  how  it  is  not 
sin.  Perhaps  the  men  can  tell  me  the  justifica 
tion.  I  think  she  would  like  to  have  them  explain 
it  to  her.  I  am  glad  I  did  not  desert  the  men." 

After  an  hour  or  more  he  came  to  an  open  place 
—  a  park,  where  there  was  a  stone  bench  and  the 
statue  of  a  patriot.  He  sat  down  and  looked  at 
the  man  of  bronze  and  read  the  inscription  of 
praise  carved  on  the  pedestal.  He  had  meant  to 
be  a  patriot  too ;  he  had  meant  to  deserve  well 
by  his  fellow  men.  He  had  lifted  his  arm  against 
the  oppressor,  and  cast  in  his  lot  with  the  down 
trodden  and  weak.  And  withal,  evil  had  triumphed 
gloriously.  To-morrow  he  must  go  down  into  the 
pit,  —  if  indeed  he  were  not  already  descending,  — 
a  knave,  the  despoiler  of  widows  and  orphans, 
dishonored,  unsung. 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  he  said  again,  for  the 
fiftieth  time  —  and  then,  aloud,  he  murmured, 
"  Monuments  of  brass." 

When  he  left  the  statue  he  walked  down  the 
middle  of  a  long,  pretentious  avenue  planted  with 


THE  WAY  OF  THE  TRANSGRESSOR      267 

four  rows  of  trees  still  young  and  upstart  in  char 
acter. 

"  And  there  is  no  one  to  lead  them.  I  tried, 
and  I  have  failed.  They  are  afraid  of  each  other, 
and  of  all  the  world.  For  a  little  while  they 
leaned  on  me,  but  I  am  a  broken  reed.  I  wonder 
what  they  will  do !  I  wonder  when  the  new  day 
will  dawn  !  Who  will  arise  and  take  pity  on  the 
workingmen  ?  Alas,  alas,  they  needed  me,  and  I 
have  failed.  If  I  could  only  see,  even  now,  now 
that  it  is  over,  how  it  might  have  been  done  another 
way.  But  I  could  not  cut  down  the  wages.  That, 
too,  would  have  meant  defeat,  and  I  could  not  in 
crease  the  hours.  God  knows  we  had  little  need 
to  increase  the  hours  this  last  year,  —  with  no  one 
to  buy  the  shoes. 

"  It  was  only  a  loan.  I  borrowed  it,  I  did  not 
steal.  I  did  not  steal!  My  hands  are  clean  of 
theft.  I  borrowed  it.  They  did  not  give  me  time. 
If  I  could  see  some  other  way  I  might  have  gone, 
instead  of  this,  I  would  thank  God.  They  drove 
me  into  it,  and  I  do  not  see  anything  I  could  have 
done,  but  this  —  except  betray  the  men  ;  except 
go  out  of  business  and  give  it  all  up  —  and  leave 
the  men  to  shift  for  themselves.  And  that  was 
not  to  be  thought  of.  When  the  world  comes  to 
acknowledge  that  that,  too,  is  sin,  —  that  grinding 
of  the  poor,  that  conventional  method  of  stealing 
another  man's  bread,  —  the  mills  will  be  kept  busy 
weaving  sack-cloth ;  men  will  go  to  the  furnace 
for  nothing  but  ashes." 


268         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

He  sat  on  a  bench  under  the  waving  young  trees 
and  pressed  his  head  between  his  hands.  In  the 
roadway  on  either  side  of  him  the  carriages  of  the 
rich  rolled  up  and  down,  noiselessly  for  the  most 
part,  on  rubber  tires,  but  with  an  occasional  jingle 
of  harness. 

"I  do  not  see  how  I  could  have  done  differ 
ently,"  he  said.  "  Either  way  it  was  sin.  This  is 
what  the  world  has  come  to.  A  man  must  give  up 
trying  to  earn  a  living;  there  is  no  other  way  out." 

He  sat  for  an  hour  under  those  young  trees, 
with  nursemaids  coming  and  going  on  the  grass 
around  him,  and  the  unstable  toddlers  knocking 
against  his  knees.  As  the  afternoon  wore  on,  his 
mind  cleared  and  he  faced  the  situation  intelli 
gently,  but  always  without  hope.  He  told  himself 
definitely  that  he  had  sinned,  had  broken  the  law, 
and  must  suffer.  But  what  about  these  other  men 
who  had  broken  the  law  ?  After  all,  it  was  only 
a  question  of  which  way  to  break  it.  The  honest 
man  was  caught  in  a  trap  these  days.  Profit 
sharing  was  safe  enough,  —  pitifully  safe,  if  he 
hadn't  kept  up  the  wages  too.  But  men  would 
say  he  had  been  too  hasty  with  his  reforms,  had 
wanted  to  do  too  much  too  quickly.  They  would 
say  he  had  been  obstinate.  Well,  that  was  true. 
And  yet,  if  he  had  it  all  to  do  over  again,  he 
should  be  more  radical,  he  should  make  a  cleaner 
sweep.  The  fault  lay  in  his  academic  distrust,  in 
his  powerlessness  to  escape  from  the  tradition  of 
benevolence  which  had  enervated  his  character. 


THE  WAY  OF  THE  TRANSGRESSOR      269 

"I  wanted  to  save  them  from  their  own  mis 
takes.  I  thought  they  were  children.  I  would 
educate  them  and  then  give  them  their  independ 
ence.  And  the  thing  was  plainly  too  big  for  me. 
It  would  not  have  been  too  big  for  all  of  us  to 
gether.  We  should  not  have  allowed  each  other 
to  be  dishonest.  I  ought  to  have  divided  the  cap 
ital  ;  I  ought  to  have  given  it  to  them  in  the  first 
place.  Charity  !  Oh,  fool,  fool !  Whose  was  it, 
if  not  theirs  ?  Theirs  that  laid  it  up  for  my  father. 
Never  mine!  And  I  have  squandered  it.  We 
were  so  young,  Agnes  ;  and  we  thought  we  were  so 
radical,  and  we  thought  we  gave  the  men  so  much 
liberty.  You  would  have  done  it  better  than  I, 
dear,  —  you,  with  your  divine  rashness  in  doing 
right.  But  I  made  you  my  wife,  and  I  gave  you 
the  child ;  and  I  did  not  tell  you  what  I  was  doing. 
I  have  been  so  wrong  in  so  many  ways." 

About  five  o'clock  he  got  down  into  the  shop 
ping  streets  and  threaded  his  way  deliberately 
through  the  maze  of  women  and  loungers  that 
thronged  the  sidewalks  and  jostled  towards  the 
shop  windows.  He  had  a  sense  as  of  infinite  toil 
ers  crowding  upon  his  heart,  stifling  him,  crushing 
life  and  thought  and  the  power  of  action  out  of 
him.  Behind  the  counters  in  the  shops  he  saw  the 
men  and  women  measuring  cloth,  and  selling  pins, 
shooting  money  boxes  through  pneumatic  tubes, 
tying  parcels  with  white  string.  Above  his  head, 
on  the  other  side  of  the  street,  cloak-makers  sat  at 
sewing-machines,  printers  read  copy,  elevators  rose 


270         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

and  fell  eternally  crammed.  Under  his  feet,  be 
neath  the  honeycomb  slabs  of  clouded  glass,  women 
sold  china  and  tinware  for  the  great  department 
stores,  or  altered  ready-made  garments. 

"  And  they  are  almost  all  underpaid  and  over 
worked.  And  I  have  failed." 

He  fled  from  this  toiling  bedlam  to  the  devious 
windings  of  the  lower  city,  and  strayed  among 
bank  buildings,  railroad  offices,  government  edi 
fices,  set  slantwise,  edgewise,  cornerwise,  along  the 
narrow  twisted  streets.  Christopher  had  walked 
all  day  unrecognized,  but  here,  in  the  dusk  of  the 
June  evening,  an  acquaintance  hailed  him. 

"  Holloa,  Kenyon !  you  've  missed  the  seven 
fifteen.  Better  come  home  to  dinner  with  me. 
I  've  got  to  take  my  wife  to  hear  that  wall-eyed 
East  Indian  what 's-his-name  talk  about  Mahat- 
inas.  He 's  a  regular  old  rat,  but  he  juggles  the 
women ;  uses  the  tail  of  his  turban  for  a  hand 
kerchief.  Fine  show  !  Come  on !  " 

"Thank  you,"  Christopher  answered,  with  a 
smile,  "  but  I  'm  a  materialist,  you  know.  Having 
pinned  my  faith  on  tough  hides  and  leather,  I 
don't  take  stock  in  astral  bodies ;  and  my  wife 
expects  me.  My  regards  to  Mrs.  Morton.'' 

The  next  day,  as  this  man  stood  with  the  crowd 
outside  the  newspaper  offices  reading  a  sensational 
bulletin,  he  turned  a  shocked  face  on  his  elbowing 
neighbor  and  said  :  — 

"  My  God  !  I  saw  him  yesterday  —  spoke  to 
him  ;  and  he  answered  me  with  a  joke  !  " 


THE  WAY  OF  THE  TRANSGRESSOR      271 

Christopher  came  to  the  water's  edge  at  dark, 
and  looked  out  on  the  shipping,  the  distant  lights 
of  the  navy  yard,  the  shadowy  suggestions  of 
islands  in  the  harbor.  A  policeman  eyed  him  and 
walked  back  and  forth  near  at  hand. 

"  He  thinks  I  am  going  to  drown  myself," 
thought  Christopher.  "Well,  why  not?"  He 
looked  at  the  water  again,  then  turned  on  his  heel 
and  walked  inland.  As  he  passed  the  policeman 
he  said,  "  Good  evening  —  fine  night ;  there  's 
going  to  be  a  moon." 

The  policeman  assented  cheerfully  and  went  off 
on  his  beat. 

The  people  whom  Christopher  met  now  were 
Italians  and  Russian  Jews.  Men  came  out  of 
dark  and  unexpected  alleys,  rat  holes  ;  children 
swarmed  up  from  cellars ;  an  occasional  "  Gospel 
Mission,  Welcome  to  All "  or  "  Salvation  Army 
Headquarters  "  illuminated  an  upper  window. 

"Poor  wretches!"  said  Christopher.  "These 
cannot  even  make  shoes.  The  thieves  on  the 
other  side  have  driven  them  over  to  us,  and  we  are 
treating  them  like  rotten  cabbage ;  pressed  down, 
packed  tight.  But  it  ferments.  It  is  even  known 
to  explode,  and  make  a  very  nasty  mess.  I  ought 
to  have  devoted  myself  to  literature.  I  could  have 
written  excellent  books  of  social  invective.  But  it 
will  do  no  good  now,  —  now  that  I  have  committed 
the  unconventional  sin.  Only  the  conventional 
sins  pass,  with  the  world." 

He  was  in  the  station,  and  as  he  walked  down 


272          THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

between  the  tracks  to  his  train,  he  turned  absently 
to  the  left  hand  instead  of  to  the  right ;  but  the 
conductor  recognized  him  and  sang  out,  "  This  side 
for  Maberley,  Rowell,  and  Kenyon  Village." 

Christopher  acknowledged  the  warning  with  a 
nod  and  a  smile,  and  got  into  the  car.  Just  so 
sane,  and  yet  so  confused,  had  he  been  all  day. 

He  watched  the  rising  moon  through  the  car 
window.  He  counted  the  stations  mechanically. 

"I  shall  not  need  to  tell  Agnes  to-night,"  he 
thought.  "  It  will  be  too  late  to-night.  I  wonder 
what  will  happen  to  -  morrow  ?  Will  everybody 
know?  And  when  it  is  all  over,  what  shall  we 
do,  —  Agnes  and  I  and  the  boy  ?  Shall  we  go 
and  live  in  the  village  in  one  of  the  factory  cot 
tages  ?  We  ought  to  have  done  that  in  the  first 
place.  Agnes  said  we  ought.  She  did  not  want 
to  live  in  the  Homestead  when  the  workers  had 
only  their  little  houses.  Shall  we  go  to  the  city, 
perhaps,  and  start  there,  fresh  ?  " 

On  a  sudden,  Christopher  sat  bolt  upright  in 
his  seat.  The  man  in  front  glanced  round,  but 
the  light  in  the  car  was  poor. 

Sin  !  That  was  what  it  meant !  That !  O  God  ! 
O  God  !  only  let  him  get  away  into  the  dark 
ness,  away  from  his  fellow  men  —  anywhere. 
Escape !  Escape !  while  there  was  yet  time. 
They  would  put  detectives  on  his  track.  They 
would  try  him  in  court,  and  twelve  men,  some  of 
whom  he  might  even  know  by  name,  —  Morton, 
perhaps,  —  would  bring  in  a  verdict  of  —  guilty !  " 


THE  WAY  OF  THE  TRANSGRESSOR      273 

"  Kenyon  Village,"  called  the  brakeman,  "  this 
train  express  to  Chatfield." 

Christopher  staggered  out,  and  around  the  dark 
side  of  the  little  station. 

Oh,  horrible !  Why  had  he  never  thought  of 
this  ?  Not  guilty  !  Not  guilty  !  And  old  Wat 
son  would  go  free  to  slay  his  tens  of  thousands. 

He  went  down  the  deserted  village  street  almost 
at  a  run,  and  under  the  walls  of  the  factory  he 
dropped  down  in  a  heap,  —  babbling,  shaken  with 
sobs. 

Above  his  head  the  hundred  silver  eyes  of  the 
moonlighted  windows  gleamed  towards  the  Home 
stead,  as  they  had  gleamed  that  other  night  eleven 
years  ago  when  he  had  told  Agnes  he  loved  her 
and  he  could  only  drag  her  down  to  poverty  and 
wretchedness.  And  she  did  not  care. 

But  she  did  not  know  what  wretchedness  meant, 
then,  nor  did  he.  How  could  he  have  believed, 
then,  that  he  should  commit  a  common,  vulgar 
crime  ?  He,  Christopher  Kenyon,  the  man  of  great 
ideals. 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  he  said ;  "  I  do  not  un 
derstand." 

He  came  out  from  the  shadow  of  the  wall  and 
looked  up  at  the  shops,  —  his  shops,  that  were  to 
have  belonged  to  every  shoe  worker  in  Kenyon,  as 
to  him,  after  the  profit  sharing  had  developed  into 
cooperation,  and  the  cooperation  into  labor  copart 
nership.  Three  years  ago  some  of  the  men  had 
come  to  him  and  asked  to  have  their  very  small 


274         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

accumulated  profits  used  to  buy  shares  and  form  a 
stock  company  on  the  cooperative  basis,  but  Chris 
topher  had  dissuaded  them;  he  would  not  take 
their  little  money  on  false  pretenses,  when  times 
were  so  bad.  He  had  never  cheated  his  men  of  a 
penny. 

"  Watson  was  right  —  I  have  twisted  their 
morals.  They  will  not  be  able  to  see  that  I  have 
done  wrong.  Will  they  come  into  the  court  ? 
Will  they  follow  me  ?  And  in  that  place  I  shall 
hear  that  they  have  lost  their  little  homes ;  that 
they  are  out  of  work  ;  that  Watson  has  bought  the 
factory.  It  was  my  wife  who  told  me  that  I  could 
not  do  it  alone ;  but  who  was  to  help  ?  '  How  can 
a  man  by  searching  find  out  God  ?  '  That 's  scrip 
ture.  I  'm  getting  religious.  It 's  rather  late  in 
the  day.  But  she  knew;  my  little  wife  always 
knows.  I  could  n't  do  it  alone.  Life  is  all  done : 
henceforth,  '  idiots,  paupers,  and  ex-convicts.'  O 
God,  O  God !  Why  must  so  many  other  sinful 
men  go  free?" 

He  went  towards  home  by  the  way  of  the  glen. 

"  It 's  nobody's  fault  but  mine,"  he  whispered, 
stumbling  among  the  trees  in  the  treacherous 
moon-darkness.  "  Her  father  is  a  weak  man.  He 
spoiled  the  strike.  But  I  am  a  weak  man  too ; 
only,  I  meant  it  for  the  best,  for  the  men's  sake. 
And  yet  it  was  a  sin.  I  know,  I  know !  O  God, 
I  wish  I  did  not  know !  What  was  it  Philip  said, 
once  ?  '  Ye  have  not  resisted  unto  blood,'  some 
thing  like  that.  Philip,  old  fellow,  most  pitiful, 


THE  WAY  OF  THE  TRANSGRESSOR      275 

sternest  friend,  I  have  sinned.  I  was  obstinate. 
I  did  not  tell  Agnes,  I  did  not  tell  you,  I  did  not 
tell  the  men,  because  I  knew  it  was  sin.  Yes, 
Philip,  I  know  the  cause  was  in  God's  hand.  But 
when  a  man  has  planned  his  life,  and  set  himself  a 
goal,  and  seen  that  it  was  good  —  good,  I  say,  not 
sinful,  not  selfish,  and  when  a  man's  head  's  harder 
than  a  battering  ram  —  Philip,  Philip,  old  fel 
low,  tell  your  God  for  me  that  I  have  sinned.  I 
do  not  understand  His  ways,  but  my  ways  are  bad. 
Help  the  boy,  Philip ;  start  him  straight.  —  Guilty  I 
Guilty !  Yes ;  it 's  all  true.  But  if  it  were  to  do 
again  ?  I  am  afraid  —  afraid.  It 's  all  very  well 
to  say  '  Repent,'  you  John  the  Baptists,  but  I  was 
just  as  anxious  to  hurry  the  kingdom  of  heaven  as 
you  are.  I  know  I  'd  sin  again,  being  I.  —  God  ! 
I  've  got  to  learn  how  to  repent.  —  There  was  no 
body  else  even  willing  to  sin  for  the  men ;  and 
what  could  I  do  ?  —  Not  guilty,  your  Honor  !  I 
only  borrowed  it." 

"  Where  am  I  ?    Ah,  yes  ;  the  gray  rock.     Let 
me  sit  here  awhile  and  think." 


CHAPTER  XH 
THE  VICIOUS   CIRCLE 

LITTLE  Christopher  came  dancing  down  to  the 
glen  through  the  brilliant  June  sunshine.  Uncle 
Philip  had  come  out  from  the  city  quite  early  to 
talk  business  with  mother,  he  said,  and  to  give  a 
diligent  little  boy  a  holiday.  Mother  had  run  up 
to  uncle  Philip  and  caught  him  by  the  arm  and 
cried,  "  He  has  sent  me  a  message  by  you  ?  "  and 
uncle  Philip  had  said,  "  Is  n't  he  here  ? "  But 
little  Christopher  was  so  happy  at  having  a  holi 
day  he  didn't  pay  much  attention  to  these  re 
marks  ;  he  just  ran  out  of  the  room  with  a  shout, 
and  slid  down  the  banisters  and  raced  across  the 
lawn  to  the  woods.  In  the  woods  he  sang  a  little 
song,  all  chirrups  and  twitters  and  trills.  He  had 
forgotten  his  cap,  and  his  hair  blew  out  around 
his  head  in  a  very  halo  as  he  ran.  So  went  this 
little  namesake  of  a  saint  down  into  the  valley  of 
the  shadow  to  take  up  his  burden.  The  shadow 
was  in  the  pool.  All  the  rest  of  the  glen  was 
a-flicker  with  shattered  light.  Yesterday  Christo 
pher  had  begun  a  dam  a  little  way  up  the  brook. 
He  stood  now  and  surveyed  the  scene  of  his  labors, 
poised  on  the  great  low-lying  branch  of  a  tree  that 
overhung  the  water.  He  had  one  eye  for  suitable 


THE  VICIOUS  CIRCLE  277 

dam-stones  too,  wedge-shaped  ;  and  what  was  that 
on  the  gray  rock  ?  Not  a  stone !  No,  a  straw 
hat.  Christopher's  bird  song  overflowed  into  a 
little  ripple  of  laughter. 

"  Father  !  "  he  called,  and  waited  smiling. 

Then  he  hopped  off  the  bough,  and  took  his  way 
across  the  stepping-stones. 

"  Father,  fa-ather  !  "  he  called  again. 

Long  years  afterward,  when  he  was  an  old  man 
and  the  burden  had  at  last  revealed  itself  to  him 
for  what  it  was,  —  the  very  Christ,  the  Man  of 
Sorrows,  —  he  could  still  see,  as  on  this  bright 
June  morning,  the  sun-bespattered  glen,  the  mot 
tled,  restless  water,  the  crowding  trees  on  the  bank, 
the  little  tufts  of  quaker-ladies  growing  in  the 
chinks  of  the  rocks  in  midstream,  —  and  the  great 
gray  rock  with  his  father's  hat  lying  on  it. 

He  meant  to  stand  on  the  opposite  bank  and 
peer  across  the  brook  with  his  sharp  child  eyes  be 
yond  the  gray  rock  through  the  trees,  and  cry,  "  I 
spy,  father,  you  need  n't  try  to  hide."  But  as  he 
came  out  upon  the  little  ledge  above  the  pool,  he 
saw  the  shadow.  He  stood  quite  still  to  look  at 
it.  The  water  running  down  heavily  over  the  lip 
of  the  pool  kept  the  shadow  mercifully  below  the 
surface,  about  a  foot  below.  It  lay  and  shifted 
there,  in  shape  like  a  man,  mercifully,  also,  as  yet 
face  downward. 

Christopher  climbed  down  the  rocks,  keeping 
his  eyes  always  upon  the  shadow.  He  climbed 
down  till  he  stood  on  the  flat  smooth  rim  of  the 


278          THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

pool.  If  he  had  been  a  man  or  a  woman,  he  would 
undoubtedly  have  turned  sick  or  giddy ;  he  might 
have  fainted.  Being  a  child,  and  alone,  he  stooped 
down  upon  the  edge  of  the  pool  and  looked  at  the 
shadow,  —  and  looked  and  looked  and  looked,  with 
out  uttering  a  sound.  It  was  not  that  he  did  not 
understand. 

He  climbed  back  up  the  rocks  at  last,  looking 
over  his  shoulder  with  strained  eyes,  and  turning 
white  and  panting  a  little.  But  he  crossed  the 
stepping-stones  sure-footed.  On  the  lawn  he  broke 
into  a  slow  run  ;  in  the  house  he  walked  again  up 
the  stairs.  He  made  no  sound  until  he  reached 
his  mother's  room,  but  in  the  doorway  he  paused, 
gasped  once  or  twice  helplessly,  and  at  last  cried 
out:  — 

"  Mother !  father  !     The  vicious  circle  !  " 

And  then  he  began  to  scream,  one  scream  after 
another,  faster  and  faster,  standing  straight  up  in 
the  doorway  with  his  little  lips  all  blue. 

Philip  sprang  to  him  and  lifted  him  up  in  his 
arms,  straining  him  close  to  hush  those  dreadful 
screams.  "  My  God,  what  have  they  done  to  this 
child  ?  "  he  cried. 

"  The  pool !  "  whispered  Agnes,  coming  very 
close  and  looking  an  unspeakable  question  into  his 
face.  "  He  always  calls  the  pool  the  vicious 
circle." 

"  Stay  here  !  "  exclaimed  Philip. 

But  she  was  gone,  and  aunt  Ada  was  in  the 
room  asking  if  Christopher  had  bumped  his  head. 


THE  VICIOUS  CIRCLE  279 

Philip  gave  the  boy  to  her  and  dashed  out  of  the 
house.  He  caught  up  with  Agnes  at  the  edge  of 
the  wood,  and  tried  to  hold  her  back,  to  get  ahead 
of  her,  but  she  clung  to  him  fiercely,  hindering 
him,  and  they  went  on  together. 

"Do  not  think  this  dreadful  thing,"  he  mur 
mured  at  last,  as  a  flash  of  the  brook  came  through 
the  trees. 

"  How  dare  you  ?  "  she  answered.  "  He  is  my 
husband.  He  is  a  brave  man.  He  will  face  them 
all." 

And  then  she  crossed  the  brook,  and  the  thing 
that  was  never  to  be  explained  was  revealed  to 
her. 

For  he  had  been  a  brave  man. 


BOOK  III 

THE  ELEGY 

"  '  Yea,'  said  John  Ball,  "t  ia  the  twilight  of  the  dawn.     God 
and  St.  Christopher  send  us  a  good  day  ! ' ' 

A  Dream  of  John  Ball,  WILLIAM  MORKIS. 


CHAPTER  I 
THE   CORONACH 

THE  day  the  master  of  Kenyon  shops  was  bur 
ied  the  bells  in  the  village  tolled  f  rojn  sunrise  to 
sunset.  People  on  the  trains  thrust  their  heads 
out  of  the  car  windows  at  the  little  station, 
asking :  — 

"Who  is  dead?" 

And  the  train  men  answered  with  averted 
faces :  — 

"  Christopher  Kenyon,  the  shoe  manufacturer." 

"  What !  the  one  that "  — 

But  the  train  men  were  always  busy  about  other 
things  and  moved  away  deafly. 

The  stores  in  Kenyon  Village  were  all  closed  on 
that  day.  In  the  morning  three  were  found  open 
displaying  their  wares,  and  certain  shoe  workers 
passing  by  put  up  the  shutters  and  locked  the 
doors.  The  storekeepers  took  the  hint.  No  chil 
dren  went  to  school  that  day,  no  children  played 
in  the  streets.  There  was  silence  everywhere,  save 
for  the  tolling  of  the  bells  and,  now  and  again,  the 
heavy  sobbing  of  some  woman  in  her  garden  gath 
ering  flowers.  Every  shoe  worker's  little  house 
had  a  garden  patch  before  it ;  Christopher  had 


284          THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

planned  these  houses,  and  the  gardens  were  full 
of  bright  flowers.  On  the  day  of  his  funeral  they 
were  stripped  bare.  At  two  o'clock  the  Kenyon 
men  and  women  came  out  of  their  doorways  by 
twos  and  threes  and  fours,  and  turned  their  faces 
towards  the  Homestead  —  twelve  hundred  grief- 
sodden  faces  stained  with  three  days'  tears.  There 
was  a  baud  of  crape  on  every  man's  hat ;  every 
woman  had  made  her  a  new  gown.  These  Kenyon 
shoe  workers  all  had  money  laid  by ;  and  if  they 
chose  to  spend  it  on  mourning  garments  for  a 
dead  friend  who  should  ^gainsay  them?  A  man 
can  starve  with  a  cheerful  stomach  if  his  heart  is 
replete  with  a  sense  of  sentimental  harmonies  ful 
filled.  At  least,  a  workingman  can. 

They  moved  down  the  road  in  a  long  black  pro 
cession,  —  the  men  walking  stolidly  apart  from  one 
another  in  grim  silence,  the  women  with  bowed 
heads,  weeping.  Eleven  years  before  they  had 
come  this  same  road,  in  holiday  attire,  with  wonder 
and  derision  in  their  hearts.  And  the  man  had 
toiled  for  them  eleven  years  silently,  doggedly, 
losing  wealth  and  home  and  honor.  The  man  had 
sinned  for  them.  On  that  last  day  he  had  thought 
with  bitterness  that  they  would  never  be  conscious 
of  his  sin  ;  he  had  said  :  — 

"  I  have  twisted  them  so  that  their  souls  must 
squint  at  truth." 

But  right  and  wrong  are  not  complex  facts  to 
simple  minds,  and  eleven  years  of  brotherly  love 
make  men  see  through  a  glass  less  darkly.  They 


THE  CORONACH  285 

knew  that  he  had  sinned  —  for  them.  And  they 
tolled  the  bells  all  day,  and  they  put  on  black 
clothes. 

Philip  saw  them  coming  between  the  elms,  and 
Agnes  heard  them. 

"Who  is  it?"  she  whispered.  "Is  it  father? 
Ah,  I  thought  he  would  come ;  I  was  sure  he 
would  never  leave  me  all  alone  now !  " 

"  No,  dear,"  Philip  answered ;  "  it  is  the  men 
and  women  from  the  shops ;  their  hands  are  full 
of  flowers." 

"And  not  father?"  she  questioned,  —  "not 
father  ?  " 

She  leaned  her  head  against  the  side  of  the 
coffin  and  stared,  tearless,  straight  ahead. 

The  foremost  men  and  women  came  up  the 
steps,  across  the  piazza,  into  the  hall.  At  the 
parlor  door  they  suddenly  stopped ;  a  look  of  be 
wilderment  came  into  their  faces  and  changed 
swiftly  through  compassion  to  silent  and  terrible 
anger.  Philip  and  Agnes  and  the  boy  were  alone 
in  the  parlor  with  their  dead.  Aunt  Ada  could 
be  heard  weeping  upstairs.  No  other  person  had 
come  to  Christopher's  funeral ;  the  world,  too, 
had  recognized  his  sin.  Philip  motioned  with  his 
arm,  and  Christopher's  people  came  in.  They  filled 
the  parlor,  —  as  on  that  other  day,  eleven  years 
before,  they  filled  the  library  and  the  dining-room, 
the  hall  and  the  stairs ;  two  hundred  men  stood 
silent  and  uncovered  on  the  broad  piazza. 

The  professor  did  come. 


286          THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

In  all  consistency  he  ought  to  have  stayed  away, 
—  for  the  sake  of  the  community,  —  and  he  meant 
to.  But  suddenly  in  the  early  afternoon  he  looked 
at  his  watch,  jumped,  caught  up  his  hat,  and  ran 
for  the  train. 

The  throng  on  the  piazza  divided  to  let  him 
pass.  Agnes  lifted  her  head  and  looked  at  him. 
When  he  came  to  sit  beside  her  she  gave  him  her 
hand  for  a  moment  and  murmured,  "  Thank  you," 
in  a  very  steady  cold  little  voice. 

The  professor  felt  as  if  his  daughter,  not  his 
son-in-law,  had  died  to  him. 

Philip  gave  his  friend  Christian  burial,  for  there 
was  no  man  to  say  how  he  had  come  by  his  death, 
and  the  doubt  was  merciful. 

At  the  end  old  Mr.  Morse,  hoary  and  bent,  almost 
ninety  years  old,  crept  up  and  spoke  to  Philip. 

"  We  wish  to  carry  him,"  he  said. 

Philip  looked  at  Agnes. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered. 

"  But  you  will  ride  ?  "  her  father  faltered. 

She  shook  her  head  and  dropped  her  veil  over 
her  face.  After  a  moment  she  said :  — 

"  It  is  a  warm  day,  father.  I  would  rather  have 
you  stay  here." 

"  Oh,  no,"  he  protested  mildly. 

«  Yes." 

So  he  stayed. 

They  carried  Christopher,  —  ten  men,  and  other 
ten,  and  other.  Four  hundred  of  his  men  carried 
him  that  mile  and  a  half.  Philip  went  before,  read- 


THE  CORONACH  287 

ing  prayers,  and  Agnes  and  the  boy  walked  beside, 
and  the  twelve  hundred  followed.  The  last  half 
mile  Jimmie  Casey  carried  little  Christopher.  The 
child  had  been  as  one  half  asleep  these  three  days, 
docile,  dignified,  serious ;  but  in  the  middle  of  the 
night  he  would  start  up  screaming;  and  Agnes' 
heart  was  bitter  against  the  inexplicable  wanton 
ness  of  God,  that  had  thrust  this  hideous  experi 
ence  into  her  son's  life.  Philip  held  her  hands 
and  said,  "  Hush  !  "  when  she  cried  out  upon  God. 

"  Hush !  He  is  an  all-wise  Father.  He  knows. 
And  the  boy  has  a  brave,  great  spirit." 

But  Philip's  own  heart  was  wellnigh  broken. 

The  little  country  graveyard  was  in  a  grove  of 
tall  pine-trees,  a  shady  place,  illimitably  sighing. 
There  were  only  crosses  and  low  monuments  and 
flat  stones  among  these  pine-trees;  in  some  places 
there  were  only  mounds. 

The  men  laid  Christopher  at  his  father's  feet, 
by  the  side  of  a  saintly  elder  brother  who  had  died 
young.  They  had  all  been  so  honorable,  these 
Kenyons. 

"  I  could  n't  bear  to  go  to  the  grave,"  aunt  Ada 
moaned.  "  I  know  he  could  n't  help  it,  poor  boy. 
But  his  father  was  such  an  upright  man,  and  never 
could  understand  mistakes  in  others,  and  so  was 
his  grandfather.  I  hope  they  don't  take  it  amiss, 
—  for  all  our  sakes  I  hope  they  don't.  But  I 
could  never  endure  to  go  to  the  grave,  Agnes,  with 
my  nerves  as  they  are.  I  should  be  expecting 
something  to  happen." 


288          THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

They  laid  the  black  sheep  with  his  paler  breth 
ren,  and  nothing  happened;  the  pines  sighed, — 
that  was  all. 

After  the  first  spadeful  of  earth  had  fallen,  with 
its  shuddering  finality  of  sound,  Agnes  led  the  boy 
to  the  side  of  the  grave,  and  he  and  she  dropped 
flowers  in.  Philip  followed  them,  and  all  the 
twelve  hundred  crowded  after,  each  one  with  a 
flower.  It  was  a  rosy  bed. 

"  Will  you  not  sing  a  hymn  ? "  Philip  asked, 
for  Christopher's  people  still  stayed,  as  if  loth  to 
leave  the  master  alone,  though  the  sexton  had 
begun  to  fill  the  grave. 

Then  Jeanie  Casey  had  an  inspiration. 

"There  would  be  that  Cail  hymn,"  she  said. 
"  He  gave  it  to  us  in  print,  it 's  a  year  gone 
now.  And  some  of  us  were  delegates  to  the  Cail. 
We  'd  be  knowing  maybe  a  verse  or  two." 

They  sang  it.  He  had  told  them  it  was  a  great 
hymn,  and  they  had  read  it  for  his  sake  and  loved 
it  for  their  own.  And  because  they  loved  it  they 
knew  it,  word  by  word.  That  is  workingmen's 
way. 

"Approach  ye,  approach  ye,  sons  of  men,  rejoicing; 
Brother  by  brother,  march  on  with  prayer  and  song  ! 
Cry  unto  Jesus,  our  Brother  born  to  save  us ; 

O  come,  son  of  Mary, 

Jesu,  our  Redeemer, 
O  come,  King  triumphant,  and  reign  on  earth  ! 

"  The  earth  is  the  Lord's,  the  nations  are  his  children, 
Yea,  though  their  birthright  they  know  not  or  deny ; 
Rending  asunder  what  God  hath  willed  united. 


THE  CORONACH  289 

O  come,  son  of  Mary, 
Jesu,  our  Redeemer, 
O  come,  King  triumphant,  and  reign  on  earth ! 

Twelve  hundred  voices  lifted  up  among  the  pine- 
trees,  and  women  sobbing. 

"  What  though  the  proud  withdraw  themselves  beyond  us ! 

What  though  the  rich  make  naught  of  poor  men's  blood ! 

He,  Lord  of  all,  shall  lay  their  pride  in  ashes. 
i,  O  come,  son  of  Mary, 

Jesu,  our  Redeemer, 

O  come,  King  triumphant,  and  reign  on  earth ! 

"  Who  shall  despair,  though  round  us  be  confusion ; 
Though  not  for  us  the  perfect  order  dawn  ? 
The  Day-Star  is  seen,  the  darkness  is  departing ! 

O  come,  son  of  Mary, 

Jesu,  our  Redeemer, 
O  come,  King  triumphant,  and  reign  on  earth !  " 

They  covered  the  grave  with  their  nosegays  after 
this  and  went  home  to  the  sound  of  the  tolling 
beUs. 

In  the  evening  the  professor  explained  himself 
to  Philip. 

"  I  considered  the  matter  carefully,  and  decided 
that,  on  the  whole,  I  would  better  stay  away. 
This  has  been  a  great  shock  to  the  community ; 
the  influence  of  such  an  action  as  —  as  his,  is  far- 
reaching  and  insidious.  However,  I  may  mourn 
personally,  and  I  do  mourn,  Philip ;  he  was  to  me 
as  a  son  ;  the  knowledge  that  I  have  been  deceived 
in  him,  that  he  was  unworthy,  is  heart-breaking. 
But  we  ought  not  to  gratify  our  feeling  for  senti- 


290         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

ment  by  ignoring  the  public  attitude  of  disapproval, 
which  I  believe  to  be  a  righteous  attitude,  and  a 
salutary  one.  The  public  must  not  have  its  ethi 
cal  standards  lowered  ;  we  are  responsible,  as  indi 
viduals,  for  the  ethics  of  society  at  large.  I  have 
no  right  to  do  anything  which  will  make  for  lax 
morality.  But  Agnes  is  my  only  daughter.  In 
the  end  I  could  only  throw  logic  to  the  winds.  I 
fear  she  was  grieved  at  my  late  arrival,  but  I  am 
sure  when  we  talk  it  over  she  will  agree  with  me. 
Where  is  she  ? 

"  She  is  putting  the  child  to  bed.  I  do  not  be 
lieve  she  is  in  any  condition  to  discuss  ethical  ques 
tions  to-night." 

The  professor  flushed  :  — 

"  I  hope  you  do  not  think  that  resentment 
could  have  anything  to  do  with  my  attitude,"  he 
said.  "  He  made  away  with  my  small  annuity, 
but  I  am  still  an  able  man  in  mind  and  body.  If 
that  were  all  he  had  done  I  could  bear  it  gladly ; 
but  he  has  wrecked  my  daughter's  life,  stained 
his  son's  name.  And  yet,  although  I  am  not  a 
Christian,  Philip,  and  your  theology  looks  upon  me 
askance,  I  freely  forgive  all  this,  because  she  loved 
him.  But  the  community  must  be  thought  of." 

Philip  went  out  on  the  piazza  and  walked  up 
and  down  in  the  starlight.  Upstairs  the  windows 
were  open,  and  he  could  hear  Agnes'  voice  sooth 
ing  the  little  boy. 

What  would  she  do,  —  the  loyal,  flame-hearted 
little  woman  ?  Go  home  and  live  with  her  public- 


THE  CORONACH  291 

spirited  father  ?     No  !  Philip  knew  that  she  could 
not  do  that. 

"Oh,  pitying  God,"  he  murmured,  "why  do 
you  raise  up  this  temptation  to  me  now?  My 
friend's  wife ! " 


CHAPTER  H 

A  NEW  EXPERIMENT 

EARLY  the  next  morning  Philip  was  in  the  vil 
lage  calling  upon  the  more  responsible  and  intelli 
gent  shoe  workers.  He  had  something  to  say  to 
them,  something  to  which  they  listened  with  grave 
interest  and  acquiescence.  He  proposed  that  they 
should  start  a  cooperative  store  in  the  village.  It 
was  not  a  new  idea  to  them.  They  had  read  and 
studied  much  concerning  cooperation,  these  able 
shoemakers ;  they  had  even  discussed  among  them 
selves  the  possibility  of  starting  something  of  the 
kind.  Their  leisure  had  given  them  opportunity  to 
look  around  for  further  activity. 

There  was  already  a  rumor  going  round  that 
young  Loring  had  taken  the  shops  as  part  payment 
of  the  debt,  and  that  old  Peter  had  bought  them  of 
him  at  an  immense  advantage  to  himself. 

"  He 's  a  regular  noodle,  that  swell ;  he  'd  ought 
to  have  more  sense  than  to  give  away  a  first-class 
plant  like  this  one ;  I  ain't  sorry  to  see  him  skinned. 
No,  Mr.  Starr,  may  be  it 's  not  Christian,  but  I 
ain't,"  said  Jimmy  Casey  with  fervor. 

"  It 's  that  old  man  that  would  be  the  worst," 
Jeanie  interrupted,  "  with  his  letters  of  sorrow  to 


A  NEW  EXPERIMENT  293 

the  widow  —  and  then  to  buy  at  the  shameful  low 
price,  and  lay  that  load  on  the  shoulders  of  them 
that  will  pay  the  master's  debts." 

"  You  will  speak  to  the  men,  then,  of  this  pro 
position  of  mine  ?  "  asked  Philip,  turning  to  go. 

"  Speak  to  them  ?  Yes,  Mr.  Starr !  You  may  rest 
easy  on  its  goin'  through.  Why !  the  men  owe  their 
souls  and  bodies  to  the  man  that 's  dead,  Mr.  Starr. 
And  besides,  it 's  safe,  and  we  'd  own  the  whole 
of  it.  We  could  start  as  small  as  we  liked,  and 
all  the  men  would  buy  their  goods  of  us.  Twelve 
hundred  customers  ain't  bad  to  start  on,  espe 
cially  when  most  of  them  would  be  shareholders 
too." 

"  He 's  a  good  man,"  Jeanie  said,  watching  the 
clergyman  swing  down  the  street,  "an  excellent 
good  man." 

"  What  do  you  think,  ain't  he  mighty  fond  of 
Mrs.  Kenyon  ?  —  and  —  and  the  kid  ?  "  Jimmie 
added  hastily,  abashed  by  the  look  that  came  into 
his  wife's  face. 

"  I  'm  thinkin'  as  that 's  neither  here  nor  there," 
she  replied,  "  for  the  reason  that,  on  the  one  side, 
she  'd  never.  The  one  that 's  gone  was  her  man ; 
she  'd  weary  of  takin'  another.  And  on  the  t'other 
side  never  would  he.  He  '11  be  havin'  enough  to 
do  to  serve  God,  and  he  knows  it.  Nor  he 's  no- 
thin'  so  vile,  to  look  on  his  friend's  wife,  to  take 
her." 

"  The  man  's  dead,"  muttered  Jimmie. 

"Ay,  the  man's  dead,  James  Casey,  but  and 


294          THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

do  you  think  there  '11  be  the  hantle  of  difference 
in  that  for  they  two  spirits  all  their  life  long? 
Na  —  na." 

In  the  afternoon  there  was  a  family  conference 
in  the  library  at  the  Homestead.  Agnes,  very 
white  and  exhausted,  but  severely  self-controlled, 
sat  in  a  great  leathern  chair  by  the  desk  with  the 
boy,  alert  but  unnaturally  quiet,  leaning  against 
her  knee.  He  ought  not  to  have  been  there,  but 
he  was  nervous  and  fretful,  and  she  could  not  bear 
to  send  him  away  and  make  a  scene.  Aunt  Ada 
occupied  a  creaking  rocking-chair  by  a  window; 
the  professor  sat  upright  judicially  in  another  great 
chair,  and  Philip  moved  about  the  room,  now  look 
ing  out  of  a  window,  now  leaning  against  the  man 
tle-shelf,  now  sitting  down  for  a  few  moments  on 
the  edge  of  a  sofa. 

"  Come  and  sit  on  grandfather's  knee,  Christo 
pher,"  said  the  professor  ;  "  you  '11  tire  mother, 
leaning  against  her  so."  He  reached  out  and  took 
the  child  by  the  arm,  but  Christopher  jerked  away 
petulantly  and  began  to  cry.  Agnes  gathered  him 
into  her  lap,  and  after  a  moment  of  weariness  and 
effort,  compelled  herself  to  control  him  by  whis 
pered  reproof  and  the  warning  that  he  must  go  up 
to  his  own  room  if  he  could  not  be  a  good  boy. 
He  climbed  up  on  the  arm  of  her  chair  at  last  and 
sat  there,  with  his  hand  tightly  clasped  in  hers. 

"  I  have  had  your  old  room  put  in  order,  Agnes," 
gaid  the  professor,  "  and  the  small  one  in  the  third 


A  NEW  EXPERIMENT  295 

story  for  Christopher.  I  want  you  to  come  just 
as  soon  as  you  feel  that  you  can.  I  suppose  the 
sooner  the  better  now,  before  the  —  before  the 
house  is  sold." 

"  Sold !  "  cried  little  Christopher.  "  This  is  our 
house,  father's  house!  Who  is  going  to  sell  it? 
Mother,  this  is  our  house." 

"  Hush,  dear,  hush !  You  must  not  interrupt. 
You  do  not  understand." 

"But  why?" 

"  We  are  poor  people,  dear.  We  can't  afford  to 
live  here.  If  you  interrupt  again,  Christopher, 
mother  will  take  you  upstairs." 

"  All  your  old  friends  will  be  glad  to  welcome 
you,"  continued  the  professor;  "their  sympathy 
has  been  most  delicate  and  touching  ever  since  the 
—  ever  since.  And  you  know  how  my  life  will  be 
made  rich  and  complete  by  your  presence  in  your 
old  home,  my  daughter.  We  shall  not  be  as  well 
off  materially  as  in  the  days  when  you  were  learn 
ing  to  keep  house  for  me,  but  I  shall  not  grieve 
except  for  you.  There  are  good  schools  for  Chris 
topher,  and  when  the  time  comes  I  am  sure,  by 
my  influence,  I  can  get  a  college  scholarship  for 
him.  But  we  need  not  think  so  far  ahead  now ; 
the  important  point  at  present  is  that  your  home 
is  ready  for  you,  and  I  want  you  to  come." 

The  rocking-chair  in  the  window  creaked  and 
aunt  Ada  sniffed.  Agnes  raised  herself  in  her 
seat  and  slipped  her  arm  around  her  boy. 

"Thank  you,  father  dear,"  she  began,  with  a 


296         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

suggestion  as  of  gasping  in  her  voice.  "  Thank  you. 
But  you  know  when  Christopher  and  I  were  mar 
ried  we  planned  to  live  a  certain  kind  of  life,  and 
although  he  —  has  gone  —  I  still  want  to  live  out 
our  ideal ;  all  the  more  because,  because  he  "  — 

She  leaned  her  head  on  her  hand,  shading  her 
eyes  for  a  moment.  "  My  experience  during  my 
married  life  has  only  strengthened  my  belief  in 
our  ideal  —  his  ideal.  I  cannot  —  I  —  I  cannot 
justify  him  to "  —  She  stopped  again  as  if 
speech  were  impossible,  but  lifted  her  head  pre 
sently  and  continued  in  an  even  voice,  —  "lean- 
not  justify  him  to  the  world  better  than  by  living 
the  life  he  believed  in  —  and  I  believe  in." 

"My  poor  child,"  said  the  professor  tenderly, 
"  there  is  no  jus —  "  but  he  did  not  finish  his  sen 
tence. 

"  God  has  given  me  an  opportunity  to  be  really 
one  of  them,  and  I  do  not  care  to  live  any  other 
way ;  there  is  no  other  way  that  is  life  —  for  me." 

"  But  have  you  considered  ways  and  means  ?  " 
suggested  the  professor  still  gently.  "By  right, 
you  have  nothing  —  nothing,  my  daughter,  with 
which  to  make  an  establishment.  In  honor,  every 
thing  must  go." 

"  I  have  my  two  hands,"  she  answered.  "  Few 
working  people  have  more." 

The  professor  grew  a  little  excited,  but  tried  to 
keep  himself  calm. 

"  That  would  be  nonsense,  my  dear.  In  the 
first  place,  you  are  not  physically  equal  to  it,  even 


A  NEW  EXPERIMENT  297 

if  I  should  permit  it,  and  I  shall  not  permit  it. 
You  are  unstrung  and  ill,  Agnes,  and  no  wonder. 
We  will  not  attempt  to  discuss  the  situation  now. 
Come  home  with  me,  and  after  a  few  months,  when 
you  have  rallied,  I  am  persuaded  that  you  will 
agree  with  me  that  it  is  useless  to  be  led  away  by 
the  sentiment  of  the  thing  any  longer.  I  know, 
my  child,  my  daughter,  life  does  not  seem  worth 
living  to  you  now  "  — 

"  You  are  mistaken,"  she  said  quietly ;  "  it  does 
seem  worth  living,  very  worth,  and  we  must  dis 
cuss  the  situation  to-day.  Do  not  speak  of  not 
permitting,  father  dear.  You  would  not  suffer  any 
one  to  govern  your  own  conscience  for  you,  and  I 
cannot  suffer  you  or  any  one  else  to  govern  mine." 

"  But  you  do  not  consider,  Agnes,  that  I  have 
the  right  to  take  care  of  you  ;  that  the  world  will 
expect  me  to  take  care  of  you ;  that  people  in 
general  will  not  understand  your  attitude.  You 
owe  something  to  me,  to  your  father,  Agnes." 

"  I  do  not  think  I  owe  it  to  you  to  become  a 
burden  on  you  now,  in  the  later  years  of  your  life, 
especially  since  you  have  not  more  than  enough  to 
keep  yourself  comfortably,  as  you  are  accustomed 
to  living.  As  for  the  world,"  —  her  face  stiffened 
and  she  sat  straight  up,  —  "I  owe  it  just  so  much 
in  money,  very  little  besides  —  except  the  know 
ledge  that  I  am  true  to  his  ideal." 

"  And  may  I  ask  how  you  intend  to  support 
yourself  and  this  boy  ?  " 

"  By  work,"  she  returned  simply.     "  I  want  to 


298          THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

stay  near  Christopher's  own  people  ;  perhaps  I  can 
make  shoes,  c'est  mon  metier,"  she  smiled  patheti 
cally,  and  spread  her  hands  out  before  her. 

"  Absurd  !  Preposterous  !  "  cried  the  professor, 
jumping  up  and  striding  about  the  room.  "  In 
Peter  Watson's  shops,  I  suppose  ?  You  'd  die  in 
a  week." 

A  strange  look  came  into  his  daughter's  face. 
"  I  thought  you  had  a  better  opinion  of  him  than 
that,"  she  said. 

Philip  had  been  silent  throughout  the  discussion, 
but  now  he  spoke ;  and  at  the  sound  of  his  voice 
the  professor  came  back  to  his  seat,  and  the  rock 
ing-chair,  which  had  been  creaking  violently,  be 
came  silent. 

"I  think  your  father  is  right,"  Philip  began. 
"  You  could  not  stand  it,  for  Mr.  Watson  does  not 
conduct  his  shops  on  Kenyon  principles.  But  the 
shoe  workers  themselves,  in  the  village,  are  think 
ing  of  starting  an  enterprise  which  may  solve  your 
difficulty.  I  was  talking  to  them  this  morning 
about  it.  What  splendid,  wide-awake  fellows  they 
are,  some  of  them.  And  the  growing  boys  !  So 
well  developed,  so  alert,  so  altogether  sensible 
and  intelligent.  Free-born,  no  longer  slaves.  The 
experiment  has  not  failed.  Far  from  it.  It  was 
well  worth  while  giving  twelve  hundred  men  and 
women  and  their  children  eleven  years  of  breathing 
space  and  good  food ;  it  was  well  worth  while  let 
ting  up  the  pressure.  These  men  have  minds ; 
they  are  reasonable;  more  than  that,  they  are 


A  NEW  EXPERIMENT  299 

thoughtful,  and  in  the  best  sense  of  the  term,  am 
bitious.  They  all'have  a  little  money,  a  very  little, 
but  still  something,  saved  up,  and  before  Mr. 
Watson  steps  in  and  grinds  them  down  they  want 
to  get  this  money  safely  invested  and  out  of  his 
way,  and  on  the  road  to  bringing  them  in  a  pos 
sible  return.  They  have  decided,  I  hope,  to  try 
the  experiment  of  a  cooperative  store.  The  thing 
is  safe  enough ;  there  is  practically  no  competition 
in  a  place  like  this ;  they  can  begin  with  a  few 
supplies  and  gradually  increase  as  the  demand 
grows.  And  if  the  shoe  shops  are  enlarged,  as  I 
hear  Watson  intends  to  enlarge  them,  and  the 
town  grows,  and  the  shoe  workers  are  loyal  to  the 
cooperative  store,  as  I  believe  they  will  be,  since 
it  will  belong  to  them,  I  don't  see  why,  in  time, 
the  thing  should  not  be  a  power  in  the  town,  and 
even  react  upon  the  shops  to  a  certain  extent." 

"  Yes,  it  has  been  done  with  marked  success  in 
England,"  assented  the  professor. 

"  And  by  the  workingmen  themselves,"  Philip 
added  decisively,  "  with  almost  no  capital." 

Agnes  had  been  listening  eagerly. 

"  If  they  could  do  something  like  that,"  she 
said,  her  eyes  shining  wistfully,  "  it  would  seem 
as  if  the  eleven  years  had  been  worth  while  —  for 
the  men." 

"  Now,  you  know,  if  they  start  an  enterprise  of 
this  kind,"  continued  Philip,  hurrying  his  words  a 
little,  "  they  will  need  some  one  to  take  charge  of 
it ;  some  one,  in  plain  words,  to  mind  the  shop." 


300         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

"And  —  I  could  do  that!"  Agnes  exclaimed 
breathlessly.  "  Oh,  Philip,  —  would  they  trust 
me?" 

"  Trust  you ! " 

"  Yes,  I  know  they  would,"  she  whispered,  "  they 
are  my  people.  I  shall  live  among  them  after  all. 
I  did  not  want  to  take  Christopher  into  a  foul  city 
street ;  and  now  perhaps  we  may  live  here  with 
his  father's  people,  where  he  ought  to  live." 

Moans  from  the  rocking-chair  engaged  the  at 
tention  of  the  family  at  this  moment. 

"And  aunt  Ada  can  come  with  us,  I  think, 
Philip,"  said  Agnes  in  a  soothing  tone. 

"  My  dear  child,  don't  think  of  me,"  sobbed  the 
old  lady.  "I  should  never  venture  to  trust  my 
self  to  an  experiment  again,  never,  though  you 
meant  as  well  as  the  cherubim ;  I  could  n't  stand 
the  strain  at  my  age,  Agnes,  I  really  could  n't.  I 
have  three  hundred  dollars,  in  a  stocking.  Chris 
topher's  father  always  said  it  was  a  foolish  place, 
so  I  dropped  out  of  the  habit  of  speaking  of  it, 
but  it 's  there.  And  Anne  Finchley  's  going  to 
buy  her  a  right  in  the  Home  for  Gentlewomen, 
and  she  's  real  insistent  for  me  to  come  too.  I  'd 
be  safe  there ;  and  I  'm  so  nervous  about  experi 
ments." 

"  I  think  you  are  wise,  Miss  Kenyon,"  said 
Philip,  going  over  to  the  old  lady  and  standing 
by  her  chair.  "  I  know  the  Home,  and  it  is  a 
charming  place,  and  very  select.  You  would  be 
comfortable,  I  am  sure." 


A  NEW  EXPERIMENT  301 

"  Oh !  but  aunt  Ada  could  n't  do  that,"  said 
Agnes  emphatically. 

"  Yes,  I  could,"  reiterated  aunt  Ada ;  "  I  'm  go 
ing  to." 

"  The  family  would  never  allow  it,  you  know," 
pursued  Agnes.  "  There  's  your  cousin,  Henry 
Thatcher,  who  has  been  wanting  you  to  visit  him 
and  his  wife  for  a  long  time." 

"  No,  I  '11  go  to  a  Home,"  murmured  aunt  Ada. 

Philip  bent  over  her  soothingly.  "  You  might 
visit  the  Thatchers  first,  you  know,"  he  suggested, 
"  and  talk  the  matter  over  with  them." 

"  Yes,  I  might ;  but  I  don't  think  I  will." 

"  They  would  be  grieved  if  you  did  n't,"  said 
Philip. 

"  I  '11  never  go  into  another  experiment,  what 
ever  else  I  do,"  wailed  the  old  lady. 

"  Agnes,"  the  professor  began  under  cover  of 
Philip's  consolatory  remarks,  "  you  surely  do  not 
consider  this  matter  seriously.  I  cannot  believe 
that  you  do ;  I  cannot  believe  that  my  daughter 
would  so  willfully  cast  aside  her  education  and 
social  position  as  to  sit  in  a  shop  and  sell  gro 
ceries.  If  you  will  not  think  of  yourself  or  me, 
think  of  this  child.  How  are  you  preparing  him 
for  his  battle  with  the  world  ?  He  is  entering  the 
lists  heavily  handicapped,  and  you  deliberately 
choose  to  fetter  him  closer  by  depriving  him  of 
social  advantages,  by  bringing  him  up  among  illit 
erate,  prejudiced  people,  who  have  been  his  father's 
undoing.  He  should  be  educated  strictly  to  a  sense 


302          THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

of  business  morality  ;  he  has  to  bear  a  heavy  load 
in  making  reparation  for  his  father's  mistake.  I 
speak  plainly,  Agnes,  but  you  force  me  to.  This 
boy  has  need  of  the  most  refined  association  in 
life ;  he  has  also  need  of  being  helped  in  a  material 
way,  in  order  that  he  may  live  down  the  wrong 
that  his  father  has  done,  for  we  must  not  blind 
ourselves  to  the  fact  that,  although  he  had  the  best 
intentions,  he  did  do  wrong." 

Little  Christopher  had  sprung  from  the  arm  of 
the  chair  and  stood  before  his  grandfather  quiver 
ing  with  fury. 

"  Don't  you  say  that  again  !  "  he  shouted ;  "  don't 
you  dare  !  If  you  had  n't  meddled  in  things  that 
were  none  of  your  business  we  would  n't  have  lost 
that  strike,  and  my  father  could  have  sold  his 
shoes.  Jimmie  Casey  said  so  ;  I  heard  him.  My 
father  could  n't  do  wrong  —  my  father  "  — 

Philip  took  the  child  by  the  shoulders  and 
pushed  him  towards  the  door. 

"  Go  to  your  room,"  he  said  sternly,  "  and  wait 
there  till  I  come  to  you !  " 

And  they  heard  the  little  boy  stumbling  upstairs 
and  sobbing. 

The  professor's  face  was  scarlet ;  he  looked  as 
if  he  were  going  to  cry. 

"  Dear  father,  forgive  him  !  "  said  Agnes  hastily. 
"  It  has  all  been  such  a  shock  to  him,  such  a  cruel, 
cruel  shock." 

"  Even  if  there  were  any  truth  in  the  latter  part 
of  his  statement,"  the  professor  began  stiffly, 


A  NEW  EXPERIMENT  303 

"  you  know,  Agnes,  I  could  not  have  acted  other 
wise  than  I  did  in  the  strike ;  I  could  not  have 
smothered  my  conscience  even  to  save  Christo 
pher's  reputation." 

"  The  strike  is  all  over,"  she  answered  wearily. 

"  And,  as  far  as  this  money  is  concerned,  —  this 
money  that  the  men  have  saved  out  of  their  wages, 
and  which  they  are  now  to  put  into  this  new 
scheme,  —  I  do  not  see  how  you  can  conscien 
tiously  have  anything  to  do  with  it,  seeing  that  it 
is,  morally,  part  of  the  trust  money." 

"  If  in  the  end  I  can  pay  back  all  the  money 
I  owe,  that  is  all  that  can  reasonably  be  ex 
pected,"  she  replied.  "  In  the  meantime  I  must 
live,  and  I  do  not  think  that  this  money  of  the 
shoe  workers  is  more  the  price  of  blood  than 
most  of  the  money  in  trade.  None  of  it  is  quite 
clean." 

"  We  are  all  unstrung,"  said  her  father.  "  We 
are  not  capable  of  talking  over  matters  rationally. 
I  will  go  home  for  the  present.  I  have  an  impor 
tant  lecture  to  give  to-morrow,  and  I  must  run 
over  the  facts.  You  can  send  for  me  when  you 
need  me." 

He  kissed  her  and  went  out  of  the  room.  Philip 
also  moved  towards  the  door,  but  Agnes  went  to 
him  hurriedly. 

"  You  will  not  —  tell  him,"  she  cried. 

"  Is  it  not  better  that  he  should  learn  the  truth 
from  those  who  love  his  father,  rather  than  from 
those  who  could  not  understand  ?  Is  it  not  better 


304         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

that  lie  should  hear  it  now,  when  we  can  speak  to 
him  in  parable,  rather  than  later,  when  the  truth 
must  be  thrust  baldly  upon  him  ?  " 

She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  and  he 
went  up  to  the  child's  room. 


CHAPTER  HI 

THE  CHRIST-BEAKER 

LITTLE  Christopher  sat  on  the  edge  of  his  bed, 
staring  miserably  out  of  the  window.  He  stood 
up  when  uncle  Philip  came  in,  and  standing  very 
still,  in  an  attitude  of  mingled  resignation  and  defi 
ance,  he  said :  — 

"  You  can  put  me  to  bed ;  you  can  whip  me ; 
you  can  keep  me  on  bread  and  water  all  the  rest 
of  your  life.  But  it  won't  do  any  good." 

"  No,"  assented  uncle  Philip,  "  it  would  n't  do 
any  good." 

He  sat  down,  drawing  the  boy  to  him,  and  for  a 
few  moments  he  only  stroked  the  yellow  hair,  and 
prayed  silently  for  wisdom  to  guide  this  bruised 
affrighted  spirit. 

The  little  boy  lifted  his  eyes  to  his  uncle's  face 
and  waited,  awed  by  this  unusual  method  of  deal 
ing  with  naughtiness. 

"  You  know,  Christopher,"  said  uncle  Philip  at 
last,  "  that  your  father  is  my  dearest  friend,  that  I 
love  him  as  I  love  no  other  man  on  earth  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes !  You  would  never  say  such  dread 
ful  things  about  him  as  "  — 

Philip  laid  his  finger  upon  the  boy's  lips. 


306         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

"  It  may  be  that  I  am  going  to  say  harder  things 
of  him  than  your  grandfather  has  said ;  but  re 
member,  I  say  them  loving  him,  and  loving  you, 
his  son.  Christopher,  your  father  did  do  wrong." 

"  No,  not  my  father !  "  insisted  the  boy. 

"  Yes,  your  father.  And  I  am  telling  you  be 
cause  I  love  him  and  you." 

"  Not  my  father  !  "  Christopher  repeated.  There 
was  a  ring  of  tenacity  in  his  wailing  voice. 

"  Do  not  say  it  again !  "  said  Philip,  pressing 
the  child  against  his  breast.  "  I  will  try  to  tell 
you  so  that  you  will  understand." 

"  There  was  a  man  with  a  load  on  his  back,  — 
the  burden  of  the  world,  its  sins  and  its  sorrows. 
He  was  a  God-fearing  man  and  brave,  and  he  had 
it  in  his  heart  to  show  the  world  how  to  live  with 
out  sin,  and  without  sorrow.  Then  Christ  came  to 
him  and  said,  '  Carry  Me  ! '  And  the  man  looked 
upon  Christ  and  considered  ;  and  when  he  spoke, 
his  answer  was  this  :  '  If  I  take  up  you,  I  must  set 
down  this  load ;  and  it  is  not  you  only,  for  you 
bear  a  cross  ;  all  this  I  am  not  able  to  carry.  But 
if  I  set  down  the  load  the  people  will  starve,  — 
they  will  lie  down  and  die  under  this  burden.' 
And  Christ  said,  *  Carry  Me  ! ' 

" '  This  burden  that  I  bear  must  not  be  set 
down,'  the  man  replied.  '  I  know  that  the  thing 
I  do  is  a  good  thing.  I  have  warrant  from  above. 
If  I  carry  you  —  and  the  cross  —  who  will  carry 
the  burden  ? ' 

"  And  Christ  said,  '  Carry  Me ! ' 


THE  CHRIST-BEARER  307 

"  But  the  man  cried  out  bitterly,  '  This  thing  I 
have  set  me  to  do,  and  it  is  a  good  thing.  I  will 
not  turn  aside.'  And  he  kept  on  his  way,  and  the 
darkness  settled  down,  and  he  tripped  and  fell, 
and  the  end  of  his  life  came  so  that  he  died ;  and 
the  burden  remained  for  a  stumbling-block  in  the 
path." 

"  But  don't  you  know,  if  he  had  taken  up  Christ, 
why,  Christ  would  have  carried  the  burden  ?  "  said 
little  Christopher.  "  In  my  saint's  story,  Christ 
said,  'In  bearing  Me  you  have  borne  the  world 
and  all  its  sorrows.' " 

"  That  was  what  I  wanted  you  to  remember," 
said  Philip. 

"  Did  father  forget  ?  "  whispered  the  boy. 

"Yes,  father  forgot." 

"  Why  did  n't  you  remind  him,  uncle  Philip  ?  " 

There  was  a  startled  silence,  then  Philip  drew 
the  child  more  closely. 

"  Would  God  that  I  had !  But  he  was  my 
friend  ;  I  loved  him ;  I  did  not  know  he  had  lost 
his  way ;  and  he  never  told  me.  But  I  ought  to 
have  known  ;  yes,  I  ought  to  have  known." 

"  What  did  father  do  that  was  wrong  ?  "  the 
boy  asked  presently. 

"  He  took  some  money  that  had  been  given  to 
him  to  take  care  of,  and  he  used  it  to  help  his 
own  workingmen,  because  the  shoe  shops  were  run 
ning  in  debt.  Christ  said  to  him :  '  The  shoe  shops 
must  fail  rather  than  that  you  should  commit  a 
sin.'  And  your  father  could  not  bear  to  have  the 


308         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

workingmen  suffer ;  so  he  took  this  money  for 
their  sake.  But  the  money  was  not  his  to  take." 

"  I  know,"  said  Christopher,  "  it  was  the  Loring 
money.  That 's  what  Jimmie  Casey  meant  when 
he  talked  to  Tom  Painter  about  young  Loring; 
only  he  stopped  in  the  middle  of  it  when  he  saw 
me  listening." 

"  Mrs.  Loring  asked  your  father  to  take  care  of 
that  money  until  her  son  was  old  enough  to  know 
how  to  use  it." 

"  How  much  money  was  it  ?  " 

"  A  great  deal,  my  boy." 

"  Is  that  why  we  're  selling  the  Homestead  ?  " 

"  Yes ! " 

"  Is  it  more  money  than  the  Homestead  ?  " 

"Yes!" 

"  When  I  'm  a  man,  uncle  Philip,  I  '11  pay  that 
money  back  to  young  Loring,  every  bit." 

"  Yes,  Christopher,  that  is  one  of  the  things 
you  have  got  to  do." 

"  Then  it  will  be  all  right  again  ?  Father  won't 
have  done  wrong  ?  " 

"  If  you  took  ten  cents  out  of  the  contribution 
basin,  and  I  saw  you,  and  I  put  in  ten  cents,  — 
would  that  make  it  all  right  ?  " 

"  Not  for  me,"  said  the  child,  shaking  his  head. 
"  But  it  won't  be  forever  wrong,  uncle  Philip,  — 
it  won't  be  forever  ?  " 

"  That  is  between  God  and  your  father,  my  boy, 
and  God  is  patient,  and  He  gave  your  father  an 
honest  soul." 


THE   CHRIST-BEARER  309 

"  I  don't  want  anybody  to  say  to  me  that  my 
father  did  wrong,"  said  the  child  piteously.  "  I 
can't  bear  that  any  one  shall  say  that  to  me ;  I 
can't  bear  it ! " 

He  began  to  sob,  and  Philip's  heart  ached. 

"My  little  burden-bearer,"  he  said,  "you  must 
not  say  '  I  cannot  bear,'  for  you  've  got  to  bear  all 
your  life  long.  My  boy  with  the  great  name,  — 
Christopher!  Christ-bearer!  Your  father's  brave 
son !  " 

"  Father  was  named  that  too." 

"  But  he  forgot.  You  are  never  to  forget.  You 
are  to  take  up  your  father's  burden,  Christ's  way. 
You  are  never  to  go  your  own  way,  by  sin,  even 
if  it  seems  to  lead  to  a  good  end.  You  are  to 
lay  down  your  heart's  desire  and  carry  Christ,  — 
whenever  He  bids  you." 

"  And  you  '11  remind  me  ?  " 

"  I  '11  do  my  best.  But  the  time  will  come  when 
you  will  have  to  remind  yourself." 

"Christopher  —  Christ-bearer,"  said  the  child. 
"  Christopher  —  Christ-bearer.  —  What  was  it  I 
said  to  grandfather  ?  I  can't  remember.  I  was 
so  angry,  there  did  n't  seem  to  be  enough  of  me  to 
be  as  angry  as  I  felt.  I  won't  forget." 

He  put  his  arms  around  his  uncle's  neck,  and 
cried  a  little,  gently,  and  then  the  two  knelt  down, 
and  Philip  prayed  for  the  multiplication  of  Christ- 
bearers. 


CHAPTER   IV 
TAKING  UP  THE   BURDEN 

Bur  the  one  human  gratification  for  which  he 
hungered  was  not  vouchsafed  to  Philip.  Agnes 
did  not  turn  to  him  in  her  grief.  He  might  com 
fort  the  child,  but  the  mother  had  no  need  of  him. 
He  could  only  stand  aside  in  desperate  loneliness, 
and  pray.  It  seemed  to  the  poor  fellow  at  this 
time,  that  he  had  never  done  anything  all  his  life 
long  but  pray ;  he  almost  wearied  of  the  exercise 
of  this  gentle  talent.  He  had  an  idea  that  he 
would  have  been  satisfied  if  he  had  but  been  al 
lowed  to  carry  out  his  legitimate  function  of  priest, 
and  administer  ghostly  comfort  to  this  best  beloved 
of  his  flock.  But  Agnes  had  entered  a  region  of 
experience  where  God  and  her  sorrow  touched ; 
and  not  Philip,  nor  any  other  human  creature, 
not  even,  in  a  certain  sense,  her  little  son,  would 
ever  be  necessary  to  her  again.  So  Philip  bowed 
his  head  and  returned  to  his  parish,  saying  in  his 
heart :  — 

"  What  is  this  travesty  that  I  have  called  temp 
tation  !  —  Lord,  comfort  her,  comfort  her  !  For 
she  is  hurt  so  deep  no  man  can  fathom  her !  " 

She  was  very  silent,  and  when  she  did  speak  her 


TAKING  UP  THE  BURDEN  311 

face  was  blank  like  a  mask,  but  lie  knew  that  she 
was  not  rebellious,  for  she  went  with  him  to  an  early 
service  in  the  little  church  at  Kenyon,  the  day 
after  Christopher's  funeral. 

The  weeks  following  the  funeral  were  busy  ones. 
The  world  criticised  Agnes,  called  her  fanatical, 
called  her  undutiful,  said  she  was  silly  and  stub 
born  ;  accused  her  of  a  desire  for  notoriety,  and 
invented  fantastic  tales  concerning  her  plans  for 
the  future.  Her  place  was  with  her  father,  the 
world  said  in  its  blind,  conventional  way  ;  but  Ag 
nes  had  made  her  decision  neither  in  pique  nor  in 
selfishness.  She  would  gladly  have  welcomed  now 
the  filial  remorse  which  had  wrung  her  heart  at 
the  time  of  her  marriage ;  but  she  could  rouse  none 
of  it.  She  and  her  father  had  parted  company, 
the  fellowship  between  them  was  broken.  Hence 
forth  he  must  walk  alone,  she  must  follow  her  ideal. 
She  was  hopelessly  certain  of  the  line  of  conduct 
which  she  ought  to  pursue,  and  she  went  quietly 
about  the  preparations  for  the  new  life,  deaf  to 
the  fag-ends  of  fiction  and  criticism  that  floated 
down  to  Kenyon.  The  Homestead  sold  for  a  fair 
price,  and  then  followed  dreary  auction  days,  when 
Agnes  sat  in  the  cupola,  looking  out  to  Kenyon 
shops,  and  the  boy,  always  beside  her,  watched  the 
wagons  go  down  the  driveway  and  identified  their 
contents  in  moods  varying  from  childish  curiosity 
to  passionate  and  tearful  protest.  Aunt  Ada  toiled 
up  the  cupola  stairs  two  or  three  times  an  hour  to 
say:  — 


312         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

"  The  dining-table  's  gone.  I  remember  when 
James  bought  it  as  well  as  if  it  were  yesterday." 

Or:  — 

"  They  're  knocking  down  the  pier-glass  in 
grandma  Thatcher's  room.  Grandma  always  said 
that  pier  -  glass  should  come  to  me  —  when  — 
when  —  but  I  sha'n't  need  it  now." 

Or  she  would  stand  on  the  lowest  step  of  the 
last  flight  of  stairs,  with  her  head  just  above  the 
cupola  floor,  and  whisper  hastily  :  — 

"  Don't  you  want  to  come  down  for  a  little  vari 
ety,  Agnes  ?  The  Pierces  have  driven  over,  and 
they  're  bidding  against  the  Clarence  Joneses  for 
that  old  rattletrap  of  a  cradle  of  aunt  Clarissy 
Kenyon's.  They  're  real  amusing.  They  've  run 
it  up  to  twice  what  it 's  worth  already." 

But  the  day  came  when  the  old  house  stood  emp 
tied  of  all  its  belongings,  save  the  heavy,  hand 
some  pieces  of  furniture  which  the  new  owner  had 
kept,  and  the  few  modest  pieces  which  Agnes  was 
to  carry  with  her  to  the  little  rooms  behind  the 
cooperative  shop  in  the  village.  Even  aunt  Ada 
had  gone.  Cousin  Henry  Thatcher  had  claimed 
her  for  a  visit  of  an  indefinite  period. 

"  Going  to  a  Home,  indeed  I  "  exclaimed  cousin 
Henry  when  Philip  warned  him  of  the  old  lady's 
intention.  "  I  don't  make'  a  parade  of  loving  my 
fellow  men  the  way  some  of  my  relatives  do,  but 
I  guess  I  can  keep  the  members  of  my  own  family 
out  of  the  poorhouse.  You  leave  the  old  lady  to 
me.  I  '11  manage  her."  And  he  did. 


TAKING  UP  THE  BURDEN  313 

To-inorrow  Agnes  and  the  boy  would  go  away 
too.  Agnes  had  put  little  Christopher  to  bed,  and 
sat  alone  in  her  own  room.  There  was  intense 
weariness  in  her  face,  weariness  not  of  time  past, 
but  of  time  to  come,  and  this  without  trace  of 
petulance  or  any  small  passion.  There  was  shock 
in  her  eyes ;  not  a  startled  look,  but  eternal  ache 
of  disillusion ;  terrible,  irrecoverable  surprise,  from 
which  there  could  be  no  rebound.  Here  had  been 
brutal  wrenching  of  heart-strings,  and  the  poor 
threads  hung  limp  and  fluttered.  Agnes'  hero 
had  proved  to  be  a  sinful  man,  like  all  the  other 
heroes  ;  and  Philip  was  right,  —  heroes  were  not 
made  by  their  sins. 

Dry-eyed  she  sat,  leaning  on  her  hand,  the  dis 
honored  wife.  That  he  had  died,  perhaps  one  un- 
namable  way,  was  matter  for  grief  and  pity  and 
loneliness  ;  that  he  had  sinned,  was  matter  for  sor 
row  and  prayer.  But  that  he  had  shut  her  away 
from  his  struggle,  that  he  had  made  her  a  stranger 
to  his  soul,  emptily  calling  her  his  wife  —  Of 
a  truth  her  hurt  went  very  deep. 

She  was  a  sensible  little  woman;  she  always 
had  been.  She  said  to  herself  over  and  over  again 
those  first  bitter  days  :  • — 

"  After  a  while  I  shall  get  dulled  to  it,  and  I 
shall  set  my  whole  mind  and  heart  to  the  work ; 
that  does  not  fail  me  ;  I  shall  kindle  to  the  work, 
thank  God  !  But — the  difference  in  life  will  never 
go  away  from  me.  It  seems  as  if  the  earth  had 
turned,  and  were  going  round  another  way.  After 


314         THE  BURDEN  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

a  while  I  shall  not  be  dizzy.  After  a  very  long 
while." 

The  child  in  the  other  room  woke  out  of  a  dream 
and  sat  up  suddenly  in  his  bed  all  a-shiver.  He 
was  going  to  cry  out  for  comfort,  when  through 
the  open  door  he  saw  his  mother's  face.  She  did 
not  know  that  he  was  awake,  and  he  sat  still  for  a 
long  moment,  watching  her.  Then  he  slipped  out 
of  bed  and  came  running  toward  her.  At  the 
sound  of  his  little  bare  feet  pattering  across  the 
floor  she  turned,  drawing  the  gray  look  back  into 
her  soul,  and  greeting  him  with  the  mother's  face 
that  he  knew. 

"  What  is  it,  my  precious  ?  I  thought  you  were 
asleep,  long  ago." 

"  I  was,  but  I  waked  up." 

He  climbed  into  her  lap  and  knelt  upright 
there,  with  his  arms  around  her  neck. 

"  I  'm  going  to  take  care  of  you,  mother." 

"Yes,  my  son,  I  am  sure  of  that." 

She  laid  her  head  against  his  breast  wearily  and 
held  him  close. 

"  Have  you  got  a  burden  too,  mother  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Christopher." 

"  Has  everybody  ?  " 

"  I  am  afraid  so." 

He  caressed  her  wistfully,  rubbing  his  chin 
against  her  hair,  and  cuddling  his  fingers  in  her 
neck. 

"  I  have  got  my  burden,  but  I  feel  very  strong ; 
I  'd  like  to  help  you  with  yours  too,  mother." 


TAKING  UP  THE  BURDEN  315 

"  You  shall,  my  darling  ;  you  do  already." 

After  a  little  while  she  took  him  back  to  his 
bed,  and  as  he  lay  down  he  said  :  — 

"  I  don't  know  whether  I  am  most  sorry  to  leave 
the  Homestead  or  most  glad  to  keep  cooperative 
shop.  It 's  so  different ;  it 's  like  shutting  up  one 
story-book  and  beginning  another." 

"  Very  like,"  she  answered,  with  a  smile,  bend 
ing  over  him.  "  And  we  '11  make  the  new  one  a 
happy  story-book,  about  a  boy  who  was  his  mo 
ther's  comfort  and  joy  and  delight  "  — 

"  And  his  name  was  Christopher,"  continued  the 
child,  with  a  gurgle  of  satisfaction.  "  And  that 
means  Christ-bearer.  And  when  he  got  big  he 
carried  most  of  his  mother's  burden  besides  his 
own." 

He  lay  still  a  moment,  and  then  exclaimed  with 
a  happy  sigh :  — 

"  Oh,  what  a  lot  of  things  I  have  got  to  do  when 
I  am  a  man!  " 


fiitacrsibe 

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CAMBRIDGE,  MASS. 

U.S.A. 


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